Narcissus at the Laundromat

Narcissus at the Laundromat

I watched him, that handsome man.
He went from machine to machine,
stopping to peer through each little window.
I thought he must have forgotten

which dryer he had put his clothes into –
up and down the aisles, stopping in front of
every door and staring with a contented smile.
He was in front of the oversize load dryer, gazing

longingly at a bedspread tumbling around when I asked
if he’d found his laundry and, without turning to look at me,
he replied, β€œ I have no laundry.”

My attempt at Day 5 prompt at