friday at the laundromat
sitting
at Betty Lou's laundromat
- round 'n round the dryers spin -
the old couple, out on their morning walk,
stop in every friday for a breather.
she thumbs through the old "WatchTowers"
and "People" magazines:
he sits quietly, watching the dryers spin.
when they get up to leave
he looks at me,
comments on the mild winter,
asks; "how long you bin in Eugene?"
"ten years" i say.
he says, "i bin here sixty-two years;
hopped a freight with my brother, landed here.
came from Bismarck, North Dakota; my father
had a 3,000 acre cattle ranch - lost it all
in the depression".
his wife smiles,
a loving smile that says she's heard it
a few hundred times,
at least.
*
sixty-two years!
1936: a different world,
an impossible time
- broken dreams
- broken backs
bleek, harsh, frozen winter days
in Bismarck North Dakota
*
sixty-two years in Oregon
- been a long ride on that old freight
down the twisting, turning american tracks
disappearing into the end of the century.
how many loads of wash, i wonder,
from there
to here?
*
out they go
arm in arm
stepping carefully, lightly
into the rush of friday traffic and noise,
disappearing around the corner,
into the shadows of their oblivion.
back at Betty Lou's
the change machine spits out a pile of quarters:
laundry gods must be fed.
* * * *
(c)Roger Evers 1998
more issue #4 of inevitability press