3.24.2010

Victoria's Lie

For the first time in months
my laundry appeared to be void
of any female trimmings
as I transferred the load
from washer to dryer.
A Sign, I solemnly considered;
my clothes-processing appliances
had been transformed into
the mage's crystal ball
in an all-too-me skewed perception of reality.
We were doomed.

But then, like the trumpet blast
of the cavalry just over the hills
our fate was mercifully rescued:
some twisted light blue panties
exposed themselves in the pile of soaked
clothing to be dried.
Hers. My favorite ones, no less.
We were saved by a pair of underwear.

I slammed the door and hit the button
content that another near catastrophe had been foiled
by a childish superstition with too accurate
a batting average to be wholly denied.

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