Samantha Milowsky and Valerie Loveland

Photo by Su Red

I sang my poem at a laundromat.

The lighting at the laundromat is all on the same switch, so it blinks.

The college guy spinning to dry had
French toast smothered with sticky poem.

I broadcast to all the surrounding stores that bothered
to learn Morse Code.

Laundromats are all kinds of audience, good acoustics,
din and jumble of machinery accompaniment.

Doesn't everyone know ... - - - ...?

A man tells me to shut up from deep under black trucker's hat.

Some of them signal back, signals mixing with each other: "Hello suds,
do you sing help poems?"

An old Mexican couple smiles, "No, no! Let her continue!"

The whole street strobe flashes like a lightning bug town.