orgami's Diaryland Diary

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carousel

laundry goes round and round
collecting lint and dog hair
fluff in its screen

the dark vent pipe snaking up
leading outside to the front
walkways

in the morning before light
I can smell the early risers
drying their clothes for the
new day..the bacon frying on
the stoves..the fans working

I remember my mother teaching
us boyz to fold laundry..Not to
be useless or helpless men having
to rely on a woman to do most
things..

womens clothes are shaped like
the women..Organic designed not
to fold flat...flattering corners
long straightaways..valleys and
hairpins

I hang my shirts up on hangers
from the dryer..the french cuffs
frayed a pirates shirt now
a torn collar on another

the leather italian bomber cut
knicked in spots and still looking
vintage and fresh and smelling new

the shoes as muddy as the trails
I take the happy dogs on

lately been not wearing socks
they call me the cave man
from the wild hair the goatee
the eyes and way I look at things

like a carousel of wild horses
where are they going too and why
do they keep coming back>>

11:55 p.m. - 2012-11-21

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