I thought of the right words.
Sitting on a stool, ready
to take my laundry from out
of the dryer.
My vision is accosted by a
garish green countertop, light
goblin green,
showing me
the nihilism of the poor.
I thought of love, come alive
on the mountaintops of my
imagination.
She surrendered when I,
my better self, made all the
right moves,
as though that were my
fullest capacity,
my only way of being.
I think about the laundry,
the dog that
I accidentally left in the
backyard, and the birthday
party that I’m supposed to be
at.
And I return back,
to the now dry clothes,
and give thanks to my
personal space,
my mindful
privacy~