three little trees
branchs full of little
brown birds hopping
happily outside of the
tapatia where a line
of tired mothers stand
waitinf for their treats
i had been sitting
outside the laundromat
waiting impatiently
for the doors to open
stomach grumbling as
the last clean pair of
boxers signaled the
need to forego sitting
with coffee making up
new excuses not to leave
sitting instead in the car
watching the clothes spin
wondering why it always
seems to rain as i try
and wash the grime only
to start the accumulation
of another dreary day

my hands worry out the
thirteen loops needed
as the birds sing a song
of begging for the pastries
in white paper bags
planning out the day
rationing out funds to
sirvive another two weeks
on less and less than
the two weeks prior
coffee and protein powder
untasted on my tongue
the flavors grown bland
from constant consumption
as the brightly colored
literary shirts spiral
drawing out the filth in
a sudsy swirl through
portholes in chrome and
wondering how many cycles
it would take to be born
free of these sins that
hang like boulders from
the rusted hooks rammed
through a perditious soul