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launder me
May. 11th, 2004 09:41 pmIn the laundry room mirror, I can really see inside my mouth. It's like a realist painting. Stark contrasting shades of pinks. The side-punch of the metal filling last molar on the right: the day was Saturday and I was 17, 9am, still drunk, dragged to the dentist in the mall to get shot up before the insurance ran out. My teeth are tiny islands of stored memory. The laundry room is an x-ray.
My blue hair leaves impresssions everywhere. Little dots of blue under my nails, when i lean against the wall, a shadow that remains in the mirror a second longer than my mouth.
My teeth are so forceful in that light. Clamped around my hand. Blistered knuckles. Bite sized moons. Little yellow plastic cup of detergent and always dropping the hamper when i turn the key too hard.
I remember when A explained money laundering to me. We worked at a bar that was always renovating. "It's how they launder money, duh." She always looked at me like I was a little bright eyed synthetic kitten from the toy section at an airport souvernir shop. I would roll my eyes, like "i know" but really I didn't.
We were sitting at Net Net. The "cool" laundromat with red paint, hot dryers and the short haired girl who always played ani difranco. Back when that was really cool. Mostly I went to the laundromat across from the cathedral on St.Viateur with "days of our lives" and muttering housewives.
One of those ladies with curlers in her hair and a peach nightie stole my favorite sweater. I never went back.
I l
My blue hair leaves impresssions everywhere. Little dots of blue under my nails, when i lean against the wall, a shadow that remains in the mirror a second longer than my mouth.
My teeth are so forceful in that light. Clamped around my hand. Blistered knuckles. Bite sized moons. Little yellow plastic cup of detergent and always dropping the hamper when i turn the key too hard.
I remember when A explained money laundering to me. We worked at a bar that was always renovating. "It's how they launder money, duh." She always looked at me like I was a little bright eyed synthetic kitten from the toy section at an airport souvernir shop. I would roll my eyes, like "i know" but really I didn't.
We were sitting at Net Net. The "cool" laundromat with red paint, hot dryers and the short haired girl who always played ani difranco. Back when that was really cool. Mostly I went to the laundromat across from the cathedral on St.Viateur with "days of our lives" and muttering housewives.
One of those ladies with curlers in her hair and a peach nightie stole my favorite sweater. I never went back.
I l
