Incident at the White Dove Laundromat

Three weeks of laundry
unceremoniously stuffed into six machines
cramming every crevice of a dollar-fifty wash.
Ignoring the accusing stares of my fellow patrons,
I plummet into a pre-molded plastic chair
to watch the waves of fabric
churn clockwise
then counter-clockwise
then spin
in a tornado of clean clothing.
The heavy-duty industrial washer sounds off
like a jet on a runway—
shaking like a rage-filled beast
ready to explode.
Bleary-eyed, I sit
directly across from the spectacle
wondering what will kill me—
the impact of a self-destructing spin cycle
or the realization of having to fold
three weeks of laundry.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I am relieved to know that laundry makes other people feel this way. I have often wondered myself whether the spin cycle would do me off or the amount of laundry I was facing to fold. I like that you described everything so well. I could feel what you were feeling and identify with it.


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