Laundromat

A squeak of the metal tub from the gas clothes drier,
moaning with age, from the porthole of glass
the view of rotating clothes,
tentacles of jellyfish, a tangle of bras and panties.
I exist in part to load the washer and the drier,
to stare at the star, emblazoned on the beach towel
thick with the brine of a salty ocean;
it passes over and over before the glass...
yellow star, blue background, yellow star
blue background, towel intertwined
with bras and panties, torn blue jeans,
white wrinkle-proof shirts, black socks,
Over and over, blue background, yellow star,
blue background, yellow star,
until the towel becomes a blur,
a possessive image of the past,
of days before my obligation
to wash and dry the soiled jellyfish.
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