suburban laundromat blues

Suburban Laundromat Scenes
 
Suburban laundromat
Anywhere USA
 
I often go to a suburban laundromat
Near my suburban apartment
I can sit in my car
 
Listen to jazz, classical or blues
On my car’s radio
 
And watch my machine
Doing its suburban laundry duty
 
Just spinning and spinning and cleaning
Doing its thing its laundry thing
 
The neighborhood is anywhere USA
Strip malls, apartment houses, townhouses
A fire station, a police station
 
Banks, cell phone shops
Restaurants from around the world
 
At the parking lot’s edge
As I approach I notice
 
Gentlemen of the off-grid class
Sitting among their Hogs
Stoned off the semi legal weed
 
Smiling at me
With an I don’t give a fuck attitude
That is somewhat contagious
 
They tell stories
Paranoid ramblings
Containing a kernel of truth
 
As they watch their clothes
Like a hawk
 
The clothes spin and spin and spin
As the laundry machine does its laundry thing
 
The machines don’t care about what we humans think
They just do their duty as the man says
 
Across the old run-down boulevard
The light rail line uses a right of way
That dates to the mid 1850’s
 
An old Indian game trail perhaps
That the white man turned into the first road
In these parts
 
People come and go
Some in cars
Some on foot
 
People from all over the world
Speaking languages from everywhere
But all understand English to some extent
And many understand Spanish to some extent
 
I feel everyone is united
Chiefly by their transience
 
And think back on old Latin saying
Sic transit Gloria mundi
And wonder if these are the end days
 
And ask the laundry machine
What does it think
 
The laundry machine pauses
Seems to think
And looks at me
 
Almost saying
WTF do you think
A laundry machine knows?
 
And so, I gather my items
Nod to the regulars
 
Who interrupt their endless paranoid arguments
Acknowledging my existence
 
And I stumble back
To my suburban apartment
Truly paradise on earth