Loud as a Whisper

plastic bags full of clothes in hand
waiting to witness the tumbling
of clothes soiled and dirtied
the washing machines sparkle
doors open
to reveal shiny silver tubs
the dirty and unwashed
clamour to its opening
the cycles start
the soap poured in
a weekly routine
starts over again
i sit and start reading
occasionally looking up
to watch the machine spinning round and round
the multi-coloured fabrics of my life
being washed and renewed
it’s like this for everyone, isn’t it?
locked in cycles
hurtling round and round
on a precariously placed planet
just the right distance away
from the sun
a sun which allows us to survive
allows life to go on
 
i spin out of my reverie
and notice that to dry my clothes
i need more coins
people are still bustling around me
evidently unaware of each other
the repetitiveness
the unbreakable routines
which keep us in our place
planetary orbits
that cannot realign
realizing perhaps that these cycles need to be broken
the cycle of a life that is going nowhere
but powerless to change it
the force of gravity can’t be changed
we’re all spinning towards something
mutual attraction
mutual repulsion
but the laundromat can offer brief respite
offering a new lease on life
cleansing the tarnished tapestries of our lives
and so while we all spin around
huffing and puffing in the bustle
i turn back to my book and read
-P.Cunningham, May 2011