going to
the laundromat is a telling act...
being there--
with strangers.
we reveal the color of our underwear to each other
and whether we have leopard print sheets,
little girl children,
or a filthy job.
we don't talk much with each other. we mostly stay silent in the waiting.
belonging in that place -- with its tvs droning and the constant hum of the large dryers -- means that i am either in between here and there, i have an especially big or dirty something i need to wash, or i am living in a place too small or too simple to have a laundry machine on site.
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