At the Coin Laundromat
At the Coin Laundromat was written on a Saturday night after travelling from one destination to the next, helping a handful of kids understand that English doesn’t have to be as intimidating as they sometimes make it out to be. But if I’m to be honest, the time I spent writing this piece is a bit of a blur.
I happened to come across an advertisement for a poetry competition while I was surfing the web. However, the excitement I felt while writing soon turned into bafflement when I did some research on the hosts. Surprise, surprise, it was a cleverly-disguised scam. Miffed as I was, I left it in my drafts, hoping that it’d see the light of day someday in the future.
One of the requirements was that all pieces must reference a physical location and express one or two emotions. So, with the coin laundromat as the setting, I decided to liken the narrator’s weariness to their frayed, worn, and faded clothes tossed into the washer.
I wouldn’t be so bold as to call it a masterpiece, but I quite liked the final version, which is why I’m posting it here.
At the Coin Laundromat
I slot each quarter inside, and I hear
the washer roar to life. All at once,
my heart’s sorrows flash before
my eyes, and I hear
the whirr, the slosh, the splash
of something fraying
in my mind.
I wait for the world to pass me by,
wondering if things will be different
every “one last time.”
The washer shudders and slows,
my heart stirs in my throat,
the outcome is the same,
standard rinse and repeat,
my laundered clothes stiffen in the heat.
Frayed, torn and faded, weary and worn,
my basket overflows with these little
clothes I own. I doubt anything will change,
I know the outcome will always be the same,
but still, I hope.
