The Laundry Connection

I wash my clothes every day,
Because I go to work,
I change clothes every day,
So I wash clothes every day.

I have a semi-auto washing machine,
Top load,
It is,
Though I put clothes into it,
It is still like washing clothes in a bucket,
I can’t forget that I kept clothes,
In it,
‘Cause,
After a round,
I have to empty it,
To re-fill the drum,
For another round,
To drain my clothes of detergent.

If I put four pairs of denim,
The machine starts crying,
It’s a six kg machine,
I don’t know by which logic,
It’s a six kg machine,
Does it include the volume of water?
Does it count the weight of clothes once they are wet?
I, obviously, don’t know,
For this machine,
Starts crying.

I washed clothes intermittently,
Twice a week,
Sometimes thrice,
But them clothes,
Seven pairs of ‘em,
A pair a work day,
A pair a weekend,
Gets collected,
As if,
The world lent,
A bagful it collected,
In its lifetime.

I tore two of ‘em,
Two of ‘em,
Them laundry bags,
Third is already,
A fat man,
Wearing a shirt,
So small to its chest,
Ready to tear,
The buttons,
As bullets.

This machine,
Cries at four pairs of denim,
Leaves all the detergent,
On my clothes,
I care a damn,
When I wear,
For the illusion,
Of clothes clean,
As they appear,
Others tell me,
Of the web of detergent,
I wear.

Yet,
My machine cries,
At four pairs of denim,
It’s quiet now,
Last round is over,
I guess,
I need to put them clothes,
Them clothes in that super small dryer.

How it works,
Remains a mystery,
Such a small dryer,
Can house,
Three pairs,
Of denim,
Once turned,
Quakes the block,
And its stairs.

Yes,
I had my dinner,
That’s why I wonder,
At such a mundane thing,
That’s why,
I write this,
To make you cringe.

~

SaलिL