Over the Pathless Heap
January 16, 2012 § Leave a comment
He tried to avoid the grey basement wasteland,
But found himself raking up unclaimed socks,
Long-sleeved shirts, and some filthy futon covers
Into a heap at the foot of the sentient washing machine,
Which shimmied, rattled, and leaked but refused to open
Until it could repair itself,
By methods unfathomable and seldom spoken of.
Unnerved by such laundry room alchemy,
He vaulted over the pathless heap,
Searching frantically for an exit.