
The Dry Cleaners that Aren’t Anymore
windows open,
houses sharing conversation.
heat rising,
tyres on pavement,
a steady whine
of a vacuum cleaner —
somewhere.
“Bought pizza at the dry cleaners. You know, the one busted for drugs years ago,” says my neighbour, “ten minutes they claimed, turned out to be an hour — good pizza though.”
“Opening day snags,” I suggest.
He nods, and continues mowing
the dandelions in his lawn.
Everywhere Poems don’t have a subject. They have a starting point and follow wherever attention leads. It’s — go for a walk and see where you end up.
Some images created with Midjourney; all writing is my own original work.©Misky 2006-2026.
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