Tonight, I feel a bit like I’m stuck

A holding pattern of sorts.

Which immediately makes me think of plaid.
Or argyle.
A textile of mathmatical proportions.
A fabric woven to give the appearance of motion,
Where there is none.
A lie of progression, standing still
Smarmy with irony
Because it’s on a sock.
Which obviously moves
Though hidden in a shoe.

Does it know where it’s going?
Because I don’t.

So I’ll stop here.