A cat guards the storefront and stares down 

the ice cream truck, while the middle-aged

Honduran hums to Christian country. 

No one would have guessed, but is it such a surprise

when you assume other stereotypes of him?

It’s glum at the laundromat, despite the hum of washers,

the Vegas noise of the coin dispenser, and the violins

of the soaps on NBC.

While the washers rattle a presto you wonder

how many weeks will it take you to prove yourself?

How many til you realize you’re a mule? 

You won’t lose weight, won’t pray at night, won’t 

watch more documentaries. And all the while you wait 

for change to bash you one way, the right way, 

so you don’t have to pick up your feet.

It’s why you spend Sundays at the laundromat

and not brunching with the young lovelies downtown.

Are you surprised the cat won’t pay you mind?