Sometimes I Feel Like Screaming.

Inside a laundromat's luminous, sleepy window,

among the low-pitched, hypnotizing hum

of stainless steel washers and dryers,

he sits in his usual dull green chair and waits.

His observations alternate between

frumpy women, dryers that hug the wall,

and an impatient wristwatch. 

He's keenly aware a worker replaced two plants

on the line of dryers he sits beside.

And outside, a timid fall of rain has begun

to sway in the streetlights from the wind.

It's 8:00 PM.

In full dryers, he watches clothes whirl, spin,

and fall, implying to him the heated passion

of long-time lovers.

But the empty dryers feel more like kindred spirits. 

Slipping into fantasy, he sees himself at home,

placing his wife's downy-scented shirts

in her drawer the way she likes them.  

But when harsh reality slips back into place,

he's painfully aware, because there is no wife.

He knows this laundromat is an asylum

to pass time in an ugly, lonely plastic chair.

On this night, as on countless others,

time will slip away bit by bit

underneath dingy neon and fluorescent lights

before he hoists his sack to trod

the long walk home under a bleak

night sky.

At 9:17 PM after leaving,

a young carefree couple,

in pouring rain,

runs past him under a streetlight,

laughing loudly, while smacking their feet

in any puddle in the way.

Occasionally switching his heavy sack

from shoulder to shoulder,

he walks on waves of rain

that slap leaves of trees

and hears the couple's voices fade

to sounds of distant thunder.

Lights glow in the windows of houses.

When he gets home, it'll be dry, empty, and solitary.

And a chair awaits. 

Author's Note

Thank you to those of you who read this.

Reviews

[Fran Marie]

A tale within a poem, an interesting
piece on how some people live a humdrum
boring life, they create a pretend existence
of happiness ...nicely written

[Relic]

Thank you, Fran.

[Dara]

There is something very lonely about a laundromat although I have noticed some are starting to include snack bars etc. Could be a great place to meet people but it never happened for me. I enjoyed your write immensely! You have a beautiful way with words.

[Relic]

I appreciate your thoughts, Dara. Thank you very much.

[Coyote Poetry]

This is story telling my friend. I love how you described the location and the thoughts. You took me in and you held my attention till the last word. I did enjoy this tale.
Coyote

[Relic]

I appreciate your thoughts, Coyote. Thank you. :)

[Coyote Poetry]

You are welcome Relic.

[John the Baptist]

And I thought I had a dull life! This poor soul has to go to a laundromat to get whatever meager socialization might be there. I sincerely hope this guy is fictional. Otherwise, I'd suggest a suicide watch.

[Relic]

haha, part fiction, part me, John. And don't plan suicide anytime soon. Thanks. :))

[light and ashes]

Wow! Poor guy!
What a painful, but amazing write!
I've never read the stagnant and unmemorable life put so well into words.
You are amazing for giving this man's pain and misery a voice!
What could I possibly give this other than a 100??

[Relic]

What can I possibly give your comment other than gratitude. I appreciate the comment, thank you. :)

[light and ashes]

You are very welcome. It deserves it.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

Wow a very dark and lonely piece of poetry. I'm reminded of a time a while back where I went to a laundromat and saw an elderly gentleman sitting in a corner. I remember wondering what he may be thinking, but after reading this poem I fear I may now know the answer. A very compelling piece Relic.

[Relic]

Thank you, Carlos. I didn't expect anyone to notice this. :) It comes with a little experiences of my own.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

You are not alone my friend. Watching that elderly man made me feel that he and I had a lot in common not just washing our clothing in silence alone.