the fluff cycle in poetry

do you ever feel like an unpaired sock
floating alone in the abandoned
laundromat drier of life?
I’m asking for a friend

are you afraid that your mate went off
wandered away into some random basket
while you spin and spin and spin away
a piece of yourself worn off every turn
until your body’s lost to the lint trap?
I’m asking for a friend

do you chase ghosts in the dryer sheets
in the stray threads
in anything that looks even a little like
what might yet be your missing half
if you squint real hard in the dead of night?
I’m asking for a friend

and oh god
then you get on facebook and see
all the goddamned pretty socks paired off like new
but then
my analogy totally goes off the rails there
I mean
my friend’s analogy totally goes off the rails there
the analogy where my friend is a lonely sock
not me
not me
not me