no one looks happy at the laundromat, dour faces and spinning loads

faces staring at phones, children running about bored, at least the ones without phones to stare at

we all air our dirty laundry at some point, why not in a building dedicated to it

let the cyclical cleansing begin

the dirt and stains of another week down, the new one beginning

let us face it clean

staring at our own faces staring into tiny screens while the big windows show an indifferent world slowly drifting past outside

if cleanliness is next to godliness

then god is staring at his phone while the entire world burns

as near as i can tell

yet here i sit alone

tapping out another poem to the indifference, seeking to make a difference, but no one seems to care

5 thoughts on “cleanliness

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