Clothes tumbling in the machine

When I was a boy, I was never afraid of sound even when it was loud and scary

The only sound I feared was a groaning creak in the walls (I thought it was a ghost in the night)

Much later in life, I learned it was the rocking of an amorous bed on the other side of the wall

When I was a boy, I didn’t know how often I would end up washing the same shirts

The same socks

The same sheets

I thought white clothes were easiest to clean (they have the least amount of color)

That’s why Mom washed all the whites at once, I thought

Since they were easiest

When I was a boy, I didn’t know what it meant to be easy, not really

I just did what was fun

Some days I think I still do, in different contexts

An amorous bed (the ghosts in the wall)

Back then, I was too shy to take off my clothes with other boys

I would change into gym clothes in the bathroom stall

Things are different now that we’re all grown, in a lot of ways

But laundry always has to get clean