The Laundromat Fugue State

She reads to the chorus of mumbling tumble dryers,
The coins slotting, rattling, dropping,
A coffee vending machine dribbling hot brew
Into new polystyrene cups, topped with milk and cocoa.
She’s unaware that her laundry finished long ago
But I can wait. She’s happily glued,
Lost in the laundromat fugue state.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s