all the laundry on
the laundry line
was completely dry

by eight o'clock
in the morning

even though it had
rained fiercely
the night before,

so hard, in fact,
that I had to seek
shelter in a bike

store until it
closed.

'good night!'
they said,

but it was
still raining.
drat. I felt
like an ancient
king

who is not
allowed to be
touched by any
one, or by steel,
for some reason,
and therefore even
had to use

bronze
in order
to shave

or so I read
although by

morning everything
was dry on the
closeline. except

for one moist,
white, towel.

it had fallen down
and lay frozen
and desolute
on the ground.

I picked it up
and it felt
like a crinkly
dead body.

it was so
incredibly light
and stiff
and filled with so
many icy bits
that you wanted
to laugh and
laugh until

you couldn't
laugh anymore
and until

the towel . . .

it was dry
and normal