At the KC Laundry on Pulaski

I finally saw Satan at the KC Laundry on Pulaski
The gunmetal orbs protruding from his blurry eye sockets
Showed the horrors in my face – a muted reflection
His powerful teeth were perfect – shiny and perfect
The fresh youthful tattoos on his thick furry arms
Were eclipsed by the layers of coarse gray hair
He pulled his stiff, nasty clothes out of a greasy cotton bag
He jammed the shirts and pants into the machine
His haunted eyes never left my basket of clothes – or was it my face
I looked at the dryer – my clothes tumbled in their unknowing orbit
The boxy numbers on the illuminated red dial didn’t change
I sent up a silent prayer for the cycle to tumble to an end
A sweet-faced-white-haired polack came in from Pulaski Road
Satan turned his grim, leathery face down – a cloud over his head
He didn’t look up again – not at me anyway
The tumbling finally stopped at the KC Laundry in Pulaski

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