[PancakeBrah]

she picked the pockets, checked for a wallet and change.
anything loose. then whiplashed the jeans versus her hips.
a melancholy refrain. then another subservient flick
into the washer. she'd wait right beside.
a naked, biding time. a wicker hamper for seat,
her toe tapped to a beat. eyes off in the window,
looking awfully widowed as he sat in content.
the cycle would stop in an instant, to break her stare.
changing to the dryer,
the absolute utmost weight she'd bear.

they'd fold in union. she stared at every seam,
ignoring every one of his smiles, and attempts,
as if in a dream. a co-ed work, in mild contempt;
enough to send a message. he'd grin and accept,
then retire to a film, as she double skimmed and re-checked;
whites with whites. Colors with colors, shorts and pants.
each and every, sorted, starched. perfect at glance.
and then re-perfected. unfolded then refolded, again,
in her repent, in the hole of his den.

they lay arm to arm. as alien as lovers,
wide awake. made to another, bound by a pomp, and a circumstance.
a once teenage, flirting glance. to this, now.

"Did you lay out his clothes?" he creeked out.
"You know I did."
A pause in the breath. An unfolding bridge.
"He isn't coming back, you know that, right?"
She turned over. Better that dream, than his cold black night.

She tapped his old wallet, to know it was there.