Cart on Aisle Two
slight clutter
Gather your coins from the couch cushions and hit up your roommate for some soap; it’s laundry day and you’re fresh out of t-shirts again. Better get to the laundromat before the good washers are taken- you know which ones but you won’t let on. That one on the end is murder on delicates and louder than a big bass drum. Drag that bag now, dump that load, feed the coins, slosh the soap. Sort your colors, like your mama taught you. Too late? All in. Just add water, stir and spin, all the while waiting and watching your watch. Watching other washers wash and wait, jingling coins in empty pockets, tapping toes on the lint-strewn linoleum floor. Clues emerge from bags and baskets. She adds faded jeans, his lucky blue shirt, and hand-me-down sheets, translucent in the flickering fluorescent light. In goes a tablecloth stained with cheap wine, a lacy scrap of finery unexpected amidst a sea of sturdy cottons, and more baby socks than ten tiny toes will ever wear out.
What tales could this dirty laundry tell if it were aired in public? Stuff it in the washer quick before we can begin to guess. Let the water wash over us and the soap redeem us; it’s laundry day again and it all comes out in the wash.
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