Ten minutes after I roll four quarters
into the slot of the PHILCO-Bendix front loader,
I suspect I've left a lollipop
in my new J.C. Penney Plain Pockets.

I peer through the plexiglass,
groping for any clue,
like Philip Marlowe on assignment.

Suds and softener swashbuckle the decay
leeching from every stitch.
Angry Fruit-of-the-Loom swats the door.
Blue sock and brown sock embrace like newlyweds.
Perplexed bedsheets strangle themselves.

Suddenly -
my $19.95 corduroys,
ten percent off the regular price,
rise up,
cling to the outer steel of the drum,
and gasp for breath.

PHILCO-Bendix front loader stops.
Ditchwater flows down a starboard drain.
A man and a woman drivel about the
delicacies of domestic drudgery,
undaunted by my dire distraction.

The Moment of Truth.

I hunch down closer,
face to the glass.
A purple splotch!
Damn!
Damn!
Disgusted, I sit down.

What's-left-of-lollipop spins wildly,
like the Tasmanian Devil,
a blur beyond recognition.

- Bob Miller