Mark and his friends

Mark had been standing outside the laundromat when I walked in, looking for him. When I saw him leaning against the glass window, I wanted to pretend like I hadn't gone inside yet, so I went out again and greeted him as if I just arrived. He was wearing a ruby t-shirt, shorts, and an old baseball cap. We said hi, asked each other how we're doing, and went inside to sit on the benches.

The laundromat is like most laundromats I've seen, with about four rows of washing machines surrounded by dryers lined up against the walls. On either end of the room there are coin dispensers, and perched on one wall is an old TV. There's also a soda machine and an arcade system. Huge carts like shopping carts where people put their clothes are parked in some of the pathways, and of course, there are people. The main difference between Mark's laundromat and the laundromats I've seen is that his is always occupied with a handful of people. Based on what I've observed, Mark is like an older brother to many of them.

Once, when I had gone on a long walk, I stopped by the laundromat to say hello to Mark. The sun had turned my clothes into a drying machine and me into the pair of socks inside, so Mark put some quarters in the soda machine and gave me a cold iced tea.

Today, I was visiting Mark for an assignment for class. I needed to ask him a few questions about City Heights, since he's lived there for 18 years. Before we got into it, though, Mark told me that he's working on a few stories. One story, the Laundromat Saga, is based on his observations at the laundromat. He said he gets to meet so many different characters. One of these people happened to be sitting outside as we spoke. The man couldn't hear us, but Mark knocked on the glass to say hello. The man smiled and knocked back. This man lives in his car and works at a restaurant in La Mesa, but comes by the laundromat every morning.

Mark's eyes and voice are alive, and they express his kindness, his warm love. I look forward to reading his book. As our time together ended, my dad called to let me know he was at the library to pick me up; I had lost track of time. Mark offered me a ride to the library, which I accepted. He met my dad, and we said good bye.


"Rest"

I asked myself, who thinks so highly of himself, to tell me where is rest.
And I went to powerful youths who can draw forth attention from thousands of men.
We all shook our heads and gave me a smile as though I was asking a foolish question.
And then one Thursday afternoon I wandered out along Marlborough Street
And I saw Mark and his friends in the laundromat washing their clothes, watching TV, sleeping on the benches.