In the laundromat
People fold glimpses of their lives
On top of industrial shelves
Before placing them neatly
Back into unstacked baskets
Washers bend and buzz and splash
Dryers heave and moan with labored heat
As boxers, briefs, bras and other unmentionables
Are churned within the stomachs of steel
Intimacy is manufactured and digested here
I stare as the cyclical melodrama of my own dryer plays out
Thrown back and forth for the duration of the longest 20 minutes
I have ever lived
And I am struck with a sense of recognition, deja vu
I have seen this cycle played out before
Articles of color tossed about
By forces outside of our control
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