Aunt Olive's Laundromat

by Kenneth Pobo

Through the streaky
front window
an evergreen
looks ominous,
like it might come
after us. I welcome
the click
of buttons
in a big dryer. Even
the detergent
smell pleases.

Clothes in two boxes,
I go home, dusk
in the rear-view mirror,
pink stockings
flapping between oaks.