washing clothes

washing shirts
in a small sink
waves crashing
upon a shore.

this morning
still wet.
a hot iron failed.
now a date with
a laundromat.

crisp and fresh,
sweat water,
long gone,
a quiet
and coffee
crashed too
upon the shore.

hello sun!
how you burn
off sentimentality
of the ocean lingering
between our view.

good gracious,
the incense stick
still burns — like
smoke, on the breeze.1

1 “let your troubles float away like smoke on the breeze”; takamatsu chosei