an amusing observation, perhaps:
laundry day is the only event to which
i do not wear black.

because there's none left to wear.
that's why.
that's when i know it's laundry time.

and since when do i own five pairs of black leggings, anyway?
who do i think i am, anyway?
what exactly am i doing round these parts

nosing around in the poison ivy and when,
when exactly do i plan on leaving.

nevertheless. here i am,
bed made, towels changed, wearing
black leggings black slippers shirt beret
headphones with a rainbow project in my brain,

rainbow pash around my
heart and i'm having a nice day,
face stuck in the underbrush,
thanks for asking.

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