by Donal Mahoney
In a storefront laundry
on North Clark Street
brown draperies release
this quiet man
who has my shirts.
He smiles and bows--
how carefully
he wraps them.
Before the draperies
fall back, I see,
for a moment,
in a circle swirling
almost out of sight
three kerchiefed women,
glistening black,
bending, grabbing, sorting.
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