IN THE LAUNDROMAT

On Saturday night
sax put away
by pacific waters
surfing in a celestial swim
and compressed
from a scarecrow wash
among uplifted clothes lines
of foreign bodies
vanishing in lights
empty sacks of socks
cook's aprons
in bathed bleach
waiting for the sunrise
drift as powder clouds
here where strangers
become instant friends
as silk, cotton slips by
as chancy arrangements
swirling shadows
knock against each other
as love or art objects
disappear in shiny scents
and accents pulled as words
from a drawn basket.