Weekly Poem: Wash

April 29, 2013

Voices, Art / Culture, Poetry

Sometimes—like right now—when you
need to see yourself from
outside, so you can say, objectively, how it
really feels in there,

your mind is a translucent sheet of plastic
taped on to the hotel room window in a
ragged part of town
that looks over a parking lot, a late night

laundromat across the street, where you
hope a woman will pull up, carry in
a plastic bassinet of laundry to wash,
and sit down waiting with a cigarette.

Under the right conditions, you would
walk over and go talk with
such a woman,
in such a way that she would, also,
enjoy sharing talk with you.

And you would taste the details of each other’s
travels, finding parallels, learning
of the individual winding ways that led,
eventually, to where you
find yourselves—
an empty laundromat,
tonight.




This piece was written by:

Joseph Somoza's photo

Joseph Somoza

Joseph Somoza retired from teaching (NMSU) and editing (Puerto del Sol) a few years back to have more time for writing in his back yard. He has published four books and five chapbooks of poetry over the years, most recently a collaboration with artist Louis Ocepek, Miraculous. He lives in Las Cruces with wife Jill, an artist.

Contact Joseph Somoza

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