Ruining the Laundry – a poem

Ruining the laundry

 

What’s that lousy scrap of paper
you carry in your pocket,
all grey and formless
fibers matted together
from so many washings?
I mean,
who’s gonna read it now,
make any sense of the words,
blurred into some secret code,
rinsed obscure by fabric softener
and your stubbornness. 
I bet
you’ve even forgot what it said,
why you set edge to edge so carefully
tucked it deep in your back pocket
never dared pull it out,
not even to save your black pants
from such lint embarrassment.
But there it is,
a wad in your pocket
(and some pulp in the lint trap),
with some once important thought
decomposing one wash cycle at a time.

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