Sanitise

a long laundromat hour, an old fade, a familiar slide of time;

soap in boxes, machines of it; a

sign begs, "Keep this place clean."

outside, the bars are so wetly lit

in their silent huddled storefronts;

buses pass by in the rain with

their peculiar leviathan sound noising the night.

electricity hums along wires

strung above the street, fine web of wire.

i wait to be inhabited. smoothing laundry,

feeding the tumbling with coins,

buses swim along the street, sighing those metal sighs.

there isn't a thing i do today

that does not have your name written, sounded into it;

sounds like something maybe looking for air,

breaching above the wetness,

maybe calling a name out into that dark, folding sky.

I let out a sigh, or wait a name;

how many washes more to wash you away