Laundry Room Zone Out

Thinking of you and you, and definitely you, while
I sit on this lop sided bench taking in the intoxicating scent
of fabric softener, trying not to make eye contact with the creepy guy who no doubt is a chronic masturbater.

Just the thought of his Vaseline ritual makes me cross my legs in a tight, graceful pretzel.

Watching Ms. White Trash and her doomed offspring,
warn out leather face with matching yellow hair...listening
to her aged voice compete against the orchestra of washers.

You would have been born by now.
Your donor was and will always will be a weak, limp excuse
of an xy chromosome...my fault to accept his seed.

You decided not to come to the party afterall...
Can't blame you, it would have been a flop.

Final rinse and I realized I forgot my hangers..
He wanted you to be hung on one.

Your image burned permentely on my retinas.
Perfect, little ticking on the screen, but, the ticking
stopped.

I love you and you loved me.
Lifeless gel was my last memory of you.
I woke up knowing you left me...I felt you no longer
feeling me.

Sound of quarters hitting the metal tray brings me back
to the present...a present without a gift receipt.

I guess I'm stuck with this hideous sweater.
Maybe I'll just wear it to bed..keeping me warm against
the cold stillness of black.

Red light from the digital clock keeping me company.
If only it would tick...
If only......