Sunday Afternoons At The Laundromat (#14)

I find peace leaning back
against a hot window
as summer sunlight streams through
to illuninate row after row
of dark steel machines
and floors sticky
with two-day-old Tide,
forgotten socks are fished out
and tossed wherver
there’s a free spot
while old fans
beat uselessly
against the August heat,

but it’s easy to be distracted
by small windows peaking
into tumbling clothes,
the colors of someones closet
spinning together
like Pollock’s greatest hits,
over and over and over–
a steady rhythm
to calm my restless heart.

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