by pat a physics
At night, when I hold the bag over my shoulder,
I need to put it down because it is bulging with clothes.
Make it all evaporate, turn the clothes into air.
Gloves into snow flakes.Â Coins into water.
I’ve been reading with no light, walking around with detergent and
a coat, bathing in the scalding washing machine, doing back flips in the drier.
Also, I have been going into the laundry mat with my keyboard,
muttering lyrics in a different voice over a preset harpsichord with metal beats
set at a fast tempo.Â I’ll burn my eyes,
hurtling toward the morning with sleep rocks.
The tiny speakers on my plastic toy keyboard
blinking spotted bits of sound into the whirring machinery.
0 thoughts on “The Launderer”
Isn’t it crazy that there are people out there who miss out on laundromat adventures because they have “in-home” units? Fuckers.