face bill upwards

cycles roar
soap suds
people go about their washing
all in my new laundromat

the chairs are old
the walls are dull
some classical music
plays from somewhere
all in my new laundromat

the change machine is always grumpy
all in my new laundromat

a bee firebombs through the open door
the crazy lady pours in way too much
i read a few poems by bukowski
and then i write my own
they’re not nearly as good
but they’re all i’ve got
all in my new laundromat

the air is cool and its taste is fresh
my coffee is strong but it’s good
and i drink it all
all in my new laundromat

suddenly i realize
we are all strangers in a room
accompanied by every pair of underwear we’ve got
i like the look of my new ones
all in my new laundromat

i smoke a cigarette
i think of a former lover
i listen to morrissey’s lost
all in my new laundromat

a pretty girl
asks if she can
borrow a quarter
“borrow?” i question
she says, “yes.”
“it’s more fun that way,” she tells me
all in my new laundromat

Her hair is brown
and cut very short
she drops her panties into
the open-mouth abyss
i imagine fucking her right there on the washer
making a mess
while the one below her is erased
all in my new laundromat

i am more alive when my jeans tumble dry

i fold my clothes and
think of a former lover
i say goodbye
to the pretty girl
she says, “same time next monday?”
“sure,” i say

all in our new laundromat