A Lonely Figure in the Laundromat

Inside a laundromat's luminous, sleepy window,

among the low-pitched, hypnotizing hum

of stainless steel washers and dryers,

he sits in his usual dull green chair and waits.

His observations alternate between

frumpy women, dryers that hug the wall,

and an impatient wristwatch.

He's keenly aware that a worker has replaced two plants

on the line of dryers beside which he sits.

And outside, a timid fall of rain has begun

to sway in the streetlights from the wind.

It's 8:00 PM.

In full dryers, he watches clothes whirl, spin,

and fall, implying to him the heated passion

of long-time lovers.

But the empty dryers feel more like kindred spirits.

Slipping into fantasy, he sees himself at home,

placing his wife's downy-scented shirts

in her drawer the way she likes them.  

But when harsh reality slips back into place,

he's painfully aware that there is no wife.

He knows this laundromat is an asylum

to pass time in an ugly, lonely plastic chair.

On this night, as on countless others,

time will slip away bit by bit

underneath dingy neon and fluorescent lights

before he hoists his sack to trod

the long walk home under a bleak

night sky.

At 9:17 PM, after leaving,

a young, carefree couple,

in the pouring rain,

runs past him under a streetlight,

laughing loudly while smacking their feet

in any puddle in their way.

Occasionally switching his heavy sack

from shoulder to shoulder,

he walks on waves of rain

that slap the leaves of trees

and hears the couple's voices fade

to sounds of distant thunder.

Lights glow in the windows of houses.

When he gets home, it will be dry, empty, and solitary.

And a chair awaits

Author's Note

Thank you to those of you who read this.

Reviews

[Lorry]

I've always felt that laundromat have the uncanny ability to shrink your soul, as you await with mind numbing inevitability, the stifling hopelessness of heat and smell of other people, faintly nbit not quite covered by detergents and fabric softeners, whose chemical undertone only add to the craziness and isolation of so many, whose eyes begin to impersonate the spin cycle of the masses, too fearful to make eye contact in case it raises an eyebrow, or even worse, a conversation.
The title says it all really.. ARGH!!! 😊

[Relic]

I like your interprettion, Lorry. The laundrymat can be a place of dread for some people. Thanks for the comment. :)

[DIVYA]

I loved the description of the laundry room and that made this poem special to me. It's the first time I have read such stark, moving imagery woven around a household appliance. Indeed, it all comes to reflect his internal ruminations and how the undercurrent of loneliness overwhelms his consciousness. As for my take on this, I would say I loved the concluding lines because they felt so much like home to me. I'm a loner, I love my space and I love my own company (The only people I cannot live without are my kids) To me, that giggling young couple symbolizes a season and that season visits all. It is a season that inevitably passes and we're left to wrestle with our grey, raining reality. A poem so beautiful to read...thanks for sharing.

[Relic]

What a great comment. Thank you, DIVYA. :)

[DIVYA]

It was such a pleasure! You're most welcome dear Relic. :)

[Susan 🦋]

Well, if your intention was that dagger in the heart emotion... you win. Loneliness is a hard truth for so many. Conveyed beautifully sad.

[Relic]

I appreciate your comment, Sue. I've been there and I know what it feels like.

[Cherrie]

Wow, this is a heavy writing. reality of so many. You really tether this feeling of loneliness to the waiting chair.

[Relic]

Thanks for reading, Cherrie. Glad you liked it. :)

[Cherrie]

Would make a great opening for a bigger piece.

[Relic]

Possibly, but I haven't got the energy. lol

[Cherrie]

I hear that

[Marlon Ferguson]

Effective imagery here, but reads more lke prose than poetry, at least by my definition.
Well expressed and evocative.

[Relic]

You might like this one:
https://www.writerscafe.org/writing/HouseofRelics/1049314/
No need to review.

[Chris Shaw]

It's a long time since I sat in a launderette, but I can remember it well. I was young, skint and far away from home and my love life was down the toilet. At least my clothes were clean. I felt tears on my cheeks as I read this Tim. Excellent writing.

Chris

[Relic]

Thank you very much, Chris.

[Gee]

So sad. This the plight of many methinks, especially folk with mental health issues.
So well written.
After 8 years here I would be hard pressed to find a better pen than yours.
Hope you are well

[Relic]

I really appreciate that, Gee. Thank you very much. And yes, I'm well, hope you are too.

[softlyfall]

he sits in his usual boring spot by the window
and waits
That is heartbreaking. I can see him, looking in through the window. I wish him happiness.
I totally get "the fantasies have been hard to slip out of"... when the inner life embellishes the outer so much and so often, the differences seem to obscure...hence we are left in (and this laundromat is just) an asylum.
It fascinates me how you take what seems mundane and make it so compelling.

[redd Brick Keshner]

Ah yes! Been in similar occasions such as this and that scream just wants to let out. It's amazing what can be put to words. Ans this is a fine example of putting meat and flesh to the bare bones. Much enjoyed and filled with empathy and compassion, solidarity as well with the poetic persona. /Freds.

[Relic]

Thank you, Freds.

[Ken e Bujold]

the slow meticulous build of this poem is quite tantalizing. the opening stanza had me thinking war memorial, the second an old lonely man (not exclusionary to the first), then the third shifts the thoughts ever so slightly to a voyeur, which is shifted yet again with the next 3 tumblin' stanzas that leave one thinking of a harried husband (perhaps an ailing wife) that is finally exploded with the concluding V's exposure of a sad lobo with nowhere else to really go. A splendid journey you fashioned here my friend

[Relic]

Thanks very much for the comment, Ken.