Imago

"This pair once belonged to my father, army green, golden on the thinning heels and toes, decades old-- they have disappeared into the dryer-netherworld only to return repeatedly, wiser than before-- their elastics still grasp my lower calves. When I slip into them, I see my father in his footwear, like Mercury, a copper-eyed young man, like myself, brewing with stormy promise, prepared to soar over the dusty world. Dear socks, don₂t lead me astray. Propel me from this dissatisfied life to places where my father has never been."