I have hundreds of white socks
and hundreds of dress socks
but never a match.
I cuss. Usually, “Fuck!”
The dog tilts his head.
(My genes are in bad spiritual condition.)
On a good day,
still never a match.
I laugh and dribble at the madness of my life.
My hair bubbles and I breathe.
I’m not the worst human on earth.
(I prefer my genes in good spiritual condition.)