laundry cycles and fluorescent lights take me back
sitting in the stall, listening to the air conditioning
breeze through ceilings, a place to be alone
out there, groups of small rooms and offices
fake classrooms, and “fake news” even way back then
in the hallways, staff kept to the schedule
7am wake, 8am breakfast, 9am group
11am lunch, 1pm group, 2pm snack
3pm group, 4pm dinner, 6pm recreation
7pm showers, 8pm bed, 9pm light out
Mom had us doing laundry by five
chore chart, cooked, managed by nine
laundry was in the pantry, a place to talk
wrapped in the phone cord, shutter door closed
starring at raisin brand, peanut butter,
spaghetti, detergent, trash
real school wasn’t much better than institutions
there was a bell every hour, all the chatter
all the doors and back to your seat
bathrooms were an escape there too
at least I could think, and see something real for a moment
even if it was only my own face
school halls, yep, all that electricity
pushed me right out the door, gone by noon
to start my afternoons laying by the creek,
not far from the grounds
alleyways, and back door venues
restaurant and gas station bathrooms
ten o’clock was a good hour to go in and freshen up
everyone was at work, or school, or home
no one knocked on the door at ten, am or pm
laundromats only cost a $1.50 and they had sinks
humming lights, clocks that put me to sleep
I could nap against brick walls and soda machines
with my books and quarters and a small sense of safety
today, in my house, I hear a song when the laundry finishes
like it’s the happiness on earth to have washed the clothes
I sing with it then pile the clothes on the bed, absorb the warmth
breath in the cleanness, breath in the calm
I hang a soft white towel on the bathroom rack
surrounded in light, gray stone, and plants
still a place I can always hang out a few extra minutes
Kate Lunsford 