Transcendental Sonnet #1323:
Socksual Conundrum

a sonnet in couplets or in this case pairs

Having washed my socks in the sink yet seeing no sun
I find a conundrum of celibacy begun
Outside is misty-moisty inside I am alone
Drying options are limited and some are unknown

To pop them in the oven "peccata fortiter"
Has appeal I feel but then I wonder "do I dare?"
And a riddle fit to drive one to an early grave:
If the oven then conventional or microwave?

Then if I did use an oven for a laundry load
Would something unspeakable happen? Would it explode?
And if so would I go out in a blaze of glory?
More likely it would be seen as a silly story

Which it manifestly is and I will be just fine
My his-and-hers socks all his and they are all just mine

+Steven Curtis Lance



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