Write Field: Wherefore Art Thou?

I lost a pair of pliers
   Again — again today.
How can something without legs
   So easily go astray?

I put them in my pocket
   This morning in the shop.
I didn’t take them out today,
   I didn’t hear them drop.

But gone they are without a trace,
   My pocket’s hanging light.
I look around upon the ground,
   They are nowhere in sight.

With all the many pairs of pliers
   I’ve bought throughout the years,
Losing yet another pair
   Could almost bring me tears.

What with the little farm I farm,
   I ask how could there not
Be any place without a pliers
   Stacked upon that spot?

There should be an even coat
   Of pliers across the land,
So no matter where I am
  One should be at hand.

Perhaps a string around my neck
   Would help me keep a pair,
Just like an aging teacher keeps
   Her glasses hanging there.

Lots of truckers seem to have
   Their wallet on a chain.
A pliers tangled in the loops
   Just might be a pain.

So the key is finding where
   They all have gone to hide.
My wife says she has washed a few
   When work pants come inside.

Maybe she is saving them
   In a private stash,
Like a secret IRA
   She’ll someday turn to cash.

More likely I will find a sight
   To make me stand and gape.
A stack of pliers beyond count,
   Each with a measuring tape.