Everybody Knows My Name

Baskets of laundry

Hanging out in the hallway

Calling my name

I changed my name, 

and I don’t speak laundry.

I speak frozen custard. French vanilla.

Country drives to count the deer.

Beer and pizza on date night.

In the dark, all clothes look the same,

so there’s no such thing as dirty.

I dress in the dark,

all my clothes are black.

I don’t need to do laundry.

Unless the cat knocks over the beer onto my pizza and

dresses me in spilled French vanilla frozen custard.

renegade rengay, collaboration with Barbara Leonhard, Melissa Lemay, and me

published in Hotel Masticadores