2 of 30

Write now Article Tools

The bouncy ball ricochets wild against the laundromat walls and
two kids careen after it while
the laundry soap dispenser devours my 75 cents
and I snatch my journal from an inquisitive toddler's sticky fingers, too late

You're getting on my last damn nerve, put the ball away, their mother yells;
her stomach protrudes,and our eyes skitter away-we're not the same
Laundromat magazines are old, torn, and don't advise me on important issues like
how to have my own laundry room again

My daughter goes to friend's houses so she'll have room to breathe and
I try to find space for yoga postures, my arm hitting the refrigerator,
my heel the counter
When I walk down streets I stare at my store window reflections, making sure
I still exist

All day, my husband shoots things on the X-Box until the sound echoes in our heads
I've run out of ways to dress up Ramen noodles
Wait, the caseworker tells me, because thats what we do, stand in another line and
dream of a better day

Learn more about this author, Andrea Kreidler.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.

Add your voice

Know something about Poetry: A better day?
We want to hear your view. Write now!