I woke up obstinate and needing to wash clothes.
which meant changing a $10 into quarters to use
the apartment building's cheap machines
which meant a hike to the bank

or to the overpriced laundrymat four blocks away to
where "Change Machine for Customer Use ONLY" signs
are painted on the glass doors and I knew
what I had to do.

I stuffed a plastic bag with other plastic bags
then with an actually ***** T-shirt ,t for authenticity
and marched those four blocks fearlessly.
I yanked the door open and went inside

where the manager was guarding the change machine.
He eyed me like the rule breaker I really was -
I held up my bag and he grunted his approval.
I put in the bill and taking my quarters

strode to the back of the store to hide for a moment, for authenticity.
There I found a woman about two hundred years old
mixing salt with her Borax. "I learned this from the Martians"
she said and I nodded, wanting to ask & also afraid of her answers.

I waited another minute and headed to the door
passing the manager - as he opened his mouth
I said "Oh silly me, I forgot the laundry soap!"
walked out into the now golden day.

I am an old kitchen timer
who lives in the bathroom
and I work once a day
for fifteen minutes, while
Anne showers.

I don't know what
she does in there -
maybe she sneaks
down the drain,
pops up into another
bathroom where  everything
so confusing here makes
absolute sense.

Or maybe she stays
and tries to scrub off
the night.

At the end of her time
I bring her back
loudly, insistently;
I hear her shiverswear
when she turns off
the water.

Why she climbs out
and into the day - every day -
I have no idea.
I am only a simple
timer with a dial
that turns and a silver bell
for my back.
I do not compute.

lately, it's hard for me to breathe. i don't know why, maybe it's just a flu or maybe i'm starting to miss you, again. i hope the second possibility is not true, because my body can't handle it anymore. last time this happened, i nearly lost my mind. and i hope that i will not lose the remaining pieces of myself. i'm not ready to suffer again. i need some air.

Binges
and
wars -

where
is
morning?