Sunday, June 3, 2018

Jake Cosmos Aller writes


Suburban Laundromat
 – thanks to Don Teeter for the inspiration from a FB posting

Suburban Laundromat Scenes

Suburban laundromat
Anywhere USA

I often go to a suburban laundromat
Near my suburban apartment
I can sit in my car

Listen to jazz, classical or blues
On my car’s radio

And watch my machine
Doing its suburban laundry duty

Just spinning and spinning and cleaning
Doing its thing its laundry thing

The neighborhood is anywhere USA
Strip malls, apartment houses, townhouses
A fire station, a police station

Banks, cell phone shops
Restaurants from around the world

At the parking lot’s edge
As I approach I notice

Gentlemen of the off-grid class
Sitting among their Hogs
Stoned off the semi legal weed

Smiling at me
With an I don’t give a fuck attitude
That is somewhat contagious

They tell stories
Paranoid ramblings
Containing a kernel of truth

As they watch their clothes
Like a hawk

The clothes spin and spin and spin
As the laundry machine does its laundry thing

The machines don’t care about what we humans think
They just do their duty as the man says

Across the old run down boulevard
The light rail line uses a right of way
That dates to the mid 1850’s

An old Indian game trail perhaps
That the white man turned into the first road
In these parts

People come and go
Some in cars
Some on foot

People from all over the world
Speaking languages from everywhere
But all understand English to some extent
And many understand Spanish to some extent

I feel everyone is united
Chiefly by their transience

And think back on old Latin saying
Sic transit Gloria mundi
And wonder if these are the end days

And ask the laundry machine
What does it think

The laundry machine pauses
Seems to think
And looks at me

Almost saying
WTF do you think
A laundry machine knows?

And so, I gather my items
Nod to the regulars

Who interrupt their endless paranoid arguments
Acknowledging my existence

And I stumble back
To my suburban apartment
Truly paradise on earth
 Brainwashed

1 comment:

  1. Sic transit gloria mundi" -- thus passes the glory of the world. Beginning with Alexander V's papal coronation in 1409, the procession would stop 3 times along the route and a master of ceremonies, holding a silver or brass reed and a smoldering flaxen tow would fall to his knees and intone the phrase as the cloth burned away, to remind the new pope of the transitory nature of life and earthly honors. The practice ended with Paulu VI's coronation in 1963; beginning with his successor, Ioannes Paulus I, in 1978, popes have been inaugurated instead.
    William S. Harley began designing a motor-bicycle in 1901, enlisting the help of his buddy Arthur Davidson, but in 1903 they discovered that it could not climb most hills without pedal assistance. Their 2nd model, an actual motorcycle, was completed by 1904, and they began selling bikes in 1906. The Harley-Davidson Motor Company was officially incorporated in 1907, the year Harley graduated from college. The firm entered its 1st racing team in the 1914 Dodge City 300 and dominated the sport over the next 2 decades. Because their riders were usually farmboys, they were dericisevely called "hog boys" because they "hogged" the victories. They adopted Johnny, a piglet owned by hog boy Ray Weishaar, as their mascot, who would sit on the gas tank of the winning bike as it took a victory lap. Journalists soon dubbed the racers "the Harley Hogs" and eventually all Harleys were called hogs. In 1983 formed a Harley Owners Group to promote the nickname, but a New York court ruled that the firm was not able to trademark "hog" because by then the word was a generic term for any large motorcycle. However, in 2006 the firm had its New York Stock Exchange ticker symbol changed from HDI to HOG.














































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































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In memory of that man Writing something about you is like Trying to make a swim through a sea, Through wave after wave ...