Wired
By David Allen
Something strange
Is happening here.
Matched socks
Become unmated
When freed from the dryer.
And the footloose
Shoe stuffers
Leave no word
Of where they went.
And parking in a space
Called a driveway
Leaves me scratching
My head bald and benumbed,
Remembering how I was also
Confused by driving
On parkways.
But nothing was as weird
As the warped wire mystery
That messed with me today
As I looked in an old storage tub
For a smartphone charger.
The wires I swear were placed there
Individually months, years ago,
Was one huge mass.
Old phone cords wound around
Extension cords that must have
Extended welcome to strings
Of earbuds and HDMI connectors
Who gladly wrapped themselves
In a loose wire love fest,
Apparently testing
All the tangled twists
Of the Kama Sutra.
I spent more than an hour
Unwinding them while wondering
What I would find the next time
I searched for a cord.
Type Dancing 