The Laundromat Operator and the Poet

The Laundromat Operator and the Poet.

I dreamed last night I walked
into the laundromat next to Kelly's
Foodmart in Franconia, NH.
and there was Robert Frost
washing his dirty linen.

"Are my directions clear, Mr. Frost?" asked Ezra,
the Laundromat operator. "And note the sign,
Please remove your laundry
as soons as the machine finishes".

"Sound straightforward to me, Ezra.
Not many mysteries with a machine."

"Never a surprise as in a poem, huh?"

"Oh, Ezra! Not only did I put my shirt
and drawers in the tub,
but I added the blue stuff,
then dropped my four bits in the slot.
Nothing happened."

"You've got to set the dial.
Are you normal or permanent press"?

"Well I don't consider myself normal.
Ezra, Still nothing happens."

"Keep the lid closed, Mr. Frost, keep the lid closed."

"I closed the lid
and this consarned contraption
got all agitated (as I am now),
rinsed once, started to spin, and stopped.

"Must be a washer
that doesn't like a poet."

"I might use that line, Ezra."

"Rebalance, Mr. Frost, rebalance the load.
Just like you do for your readers."

"Well don't look while I lift out
these sogging-wet long johns."

"Close the lid, Mr. Frost, close the lid."

"Ezra, I rebalanced and the cycle finished,
but explain these lace panties
entwined with my underdrawers."

"Providence, Mr. Frost, Providence".

"What should I do now, Ezra"?

"Observe the sign
I pointed out when you came in.
This here other fellow's waiting."

"Well, Ezra, you take the lace panties.
I'm not going to write about them."

"That's a pity. You might get more readers.
Put them in the dryer against the wall
where they'll really get heated up."

"Ezra, why are the dryers upright
and the washers recumbent?"

"Just the nature of the beasts.
Engineers mix the Anglo-Saxon and
the Norman for affect."

"I've filled this dryer up, but
it, too, doesn't work, Ezra."

"Just like a bad poem, eh? Too full.
You've got to use two dryers."

"Why does it take so long, Ezra?"

"If you can't be patient,
you could take them home.
String them out on a line
like words on a sentence."

“I'll just read the bulletin board
while I wait.
Look at this Moving Sale ad for a
full-size cedar wardrobe chest
That family must really be having tough times."

"They were evicted.
The man warn't no farmer
like many of us."

"Speak for yourself, Ezra.
The dryer's stopped
and my clothes are done."

"Thanks for the conversation Mr. Frost,"
Ezra replied. "Come back soon."

As he turned to go, laundry basket in hand,
Robert Frost spoke to me,
"What've you been staring at the whole time,
you young whippersnapper you?
Tend to your own dirty linen."


© Sherman K. Poultney 3 August 1996


Note: Written upon seeing the book, “The Rabbi and the Poet” at the Frost Place.

FIRE !

FIRE!

(Time is early Sun morn. Characters are Ed, a greenhorn, and Joe, an old hand at
fire. Ed has just finished pouring gasoline all around a large shed from a bright
red gas can.)

JOE
“Pour gas all around that shed, Ed.”
ED
“Like this Joe?”
JOE
“Like a pro, Ed.”
ED
“What next?
JOE
“Be careful with that gas can.
Place it farther away from the shed. ..... No, not in the SUV.”
ED
“Why’s that, Joe?”
JOE
“Throw a match into the shed and you’ll see.”
ED
“Wow! What a flare-up. Whooooosh. So that’s what napalm was like in Vietnam.”
JOE
“Yeah, but now look toward the gas can.”
ED
“What am I supposed to see, Joe?”
JOE
“A finger of flame shooting out towards the gas can.”
ED
“It almost reached the can. Good thing you had me move it far away from everything.”
JOE
“Didn’t they teach you younger guys anything in Volunteer Fireman School?”
ED
“The whole shed’s burning now. Bursts of flame, then white steam, then black, black
billows rolling upwards.”
JOE
“I sure like those flames shooting skyward. Reminds me of the barns I’d set on fire when I was in grade school. And soon the sirens will sound.”
ED
“Rrrrrrrrr. They’re starting now.”
JOE
“Quick, hop in the SUV and let’s get out of here.”
ED
“It’s so early in the morning, we probably woke them up at home in bed.”
JOE
“Imagine that. At home in bed with their wives on a Sunday morning.
ED
“Yeah.”
JOE
“No matter, they really enjoy putting out the flames. We’ll come back in a few minutes to help clean up.”
ED
“But won’t they suspect something, Joe.”
JOE
“Naw, and in any case, we got to pick up our gas can before they find it.”


THE END



© Sherman K. Poultney 19 June 2006


Notes: (assignment from Clay at SLC Summer Playwriting Workshop based on newspaper brief about subject.)