The Mound of Laundry

Hello laundry, my old friend I’ve come to load and fold again Our dirty clothes were softly creeping Grew by heaps while I was sleeping And the mission I implanted in my brain Still remains Life without a mound of laundry

The fitted sheets I fold alone Million sheets of Bounce I’ve thrown ‘Neath the halo of a basement lamp I scrubbed a collar in the cold and damp When my ears were pierced by the buzz of a finished load That ruined my show And touched the mound of laundry

And in the naked light I saw Two or three people, maybe more People messing without cleaning People talking without listening People making work in which they never shared No one cared About the mound of laundry

“Fools” said I, “You do not know Laundry like a cancer grows Hear my words that I might teach you” But my words fell like caps of Suavitel Splashed on my laundry hell

And the people howled and brayed At the heaping mess they made And the sign flashed out its warning In the words that it was forming And the sign said, “The loads of the laundry Are piled against the basement walls And upstairs halls I’m Fabrezing mounds of laundry

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