Love Poem in a Laundromat. In Sections.

1.    A small boy watches greedily a father-son pool game. He sits, head in his hands wanting to join in.

I want to join in too.

I, too, want a piece of this camaraderie.

2.    Laundromats, public restrooms, airports, bus stops.

Transient places. The most beautiful.

3.    The small boy has now covered his face, making a peep hole with his hands, hiding.

4.    I hide, too. In politeness, in hard work.
I hide in braided hair and a fast paced stride.

5.    Not always.
Sometimes I’m honest as moth wings,
dancing in the stairwells, the Laundromats, across the streets.
A yawn, a reminder.

6.    A reminder that, like the man on his laptop, we all put our head in our hands, pay rent once a month, want to join in.

7.    What would it look like,
to fully give in to love?

8.    I think this clean, speckled gray tile floor would be dirtied,
maybe we could all play pool,
or maybe I would fold her laundry, or offer that small boy my markers so he could draw a picture.

9.    What would that look like?

10.  To give in to love?
 To live there, in the love?