it’s 6:35
it’s seventy-three
the sun through the glass
makes mahogany shadows
the laundromat’s empty
except for a guy with a walker
and me
he stands by a dryer
we nod to each other
the red and white floor
has a diamond-shaped pattern
he pulls out some sheets
three pairs of panties
a cheerleader’s outfit
a corset
a teddy
he pairs up some socks
nice evening he says
he coughs
and it is
it's 6:46
seventy-three
and the sun through the glass
makes mahogany shadows.