February 28, 2012
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The pile of laundry--
maroon, navy blue, hot pink--
meshed together
on the chipped wooden floor,
forgotten and growing
No one caring
about the wrinkles that will need to be ironed out.
It all seems unimportant.
The clothes stay there,
like a crumpled mountain,
until no one is
there, and it no longer matters.

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