LAUNDRY

 

The young man walking 20 steps ahead of me

Slows, looking into the sideyard at the right

Until he passes it.

 

So, so do I.

No male can resist looking

At a woman with her arms raised

Even if she's only middle aged and

Merely bringing in her sun-dried laundry.

 

Her back is turned to me

So I can unabashedly watch

As she deftly, niftily folds her sheets

Directly off the line.

 

As I pass by, she quickly, automatically,

Does a remarkable thing I've never learned to do.

 

My daughter can do it,

Doubtless because her mother taught her.

 

And I think to that or any young man,

 

   Never marry anyone

   Until you find out whether

   She can neatly fold a fitted bottom sheet.

 

   Then watch closely how she does it.

 

   Otherwise, someday, like me,

   You may have to it alone,

   Clumsily, ineptly, bulkily,

 

Because you neglected to

 

Pay attention.