There’s a place they all go –
the white socks swallowed by the dryer,
the car keys devoured by jeans,
the wallet your suitcase ate on vacation,
the homework you knew you did.
There they are joined by
lost nails from unicorns’ shoes,
the map to the minotaur’s maze,
clear photos of UFOs and the Loch Ness monster,
quozzle tips and bent fribs from undiscovered planets.
There they lie,
in a dimension bordered by
the parts of penrose tiling that make the pattern repeat
and the parts of teflon that interpose between pan and cake,
hidden from the thin membrane of reality.
There they will stay,
dark matter collecting around a strange attractor,
holding the universe together in secret –
at least until a physicist climbs into a clothes dryer
and disguises herself as a sock.