Miracle Socks
I always knew socks were a miracle.
It's why I rejected flip flops and slippers.
Their soft fabric surface caresses my foot,
Shields it from the abrasive interior of the shoe,
Keeps it warm in chilly weather,
And soaks up the toe sweat during summer.
I have an unspoken heirarchy of sock brands,
Socks I refuse to wear--too loose or short.
Those socks that barely stick out of the shoe,
I do not like those socks.
Those socks with the yellow band down the edge,
I do not like those socks either.
But then there are the sacred pairs
With perfect length, tightness, and fit.
These are my secret treasures,
And I wear them until the bottoms turn brown
because I don't like doing laundry really.
I toss them next to my bed in a smelly pile.
I always knew socks were a miracle,
but it never occurred to me to invent miracle socks.
Look how sexy that old man's legs become!
That doctor prescribes socks to his patients!
That lady hates her gross leg veins!
They energize you somehow.
And there's a CG illustration of leg anatomy.
Not only that, but you get two free tubes of foot goo.
Everyone's in so much pain,
Or they don't have enough energy,
Or they're scared of how their legs look.
When will health insurance cover these socks?
Don't they understand they're a miracle?
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