Laundromat Dan Schwallie

I sit in the orange plastic chair to watch. Once I have put in my dime, The clothes whirl as the washer spins And bubbles froth up from the dissolving soap Behind the glass of the little round door, And the wash begins its cycle. Now it's time for the agitation cycle, Too enthralling not to watch Through the window in the little round door. Hours of fun for just a dime Plus the price of a little soap That lasts so many hundred spins. See the color as it spins, Twirling, cycle after cycle, Hypnotic swirling of the soap Beckoning me to watch While I'm reaching for another dime That I see beneath the restroom door. I open up the little round door; My wash has all run out of spins, But still I blow another dime To run the clean stuff one more cycle Not to cleanse it, just to watch The clothes, the water, and the soap. Packets of fabric softener and soap In the vending machine by the wooden front door Just make me dizzy-I can't watch Anything unless it spins, Like the wheel of a unicycle Or a twirling, whirling, finger-flicked dime. Wash after wash and dime after dime, I pour the endless stream of soap. Beautiful, eternal cycle! My eyes catch something through the door, Something shiny as it spins- What the hell happened to my watch? A nickel for soap and a wash for a dime, It spins and it spins in its infinite cycle, And I can't help but watch through the little round door.

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