The Missing Sock

I found the place that has been 

holding my missing socks, the grey striped one

and the one with red roses, my hiking sock gone 

missing for years and the ones with polka dots,

all my fun socks.

they don't hold the ones with the holes, the ones

that smell bad, that is, most men's socks.

I'm not sure why they call themselves the 

missing SOCK, and not the missing sock(s) since

no one is only missing one that has been eaten

by the laundry or somehow disappeared

to places unknown.

I'm just glad they are to be found,

all these missing socks waiting so 

patiently for us to show up, if only we knew

that they were waiting on Chestnut Street in 

San Francisco.