One night while passing a laundry mat, my friends and I spotted a girl sitting in the dryer. This poem is the result of that.

To the girl who sat in the dryer March 10, 2014


We spotted you through the window that night,

A gentle spin we took to look twice.

Questions tumbled through our minds,

“Is she drying her pants? They look nice.”


You sat with your phone and pondered the screen.

Perhaps she needs to vent, or she didn’t see the seat.

This could be a delicate situation, we think,

At least it’s the bottom; sitting in the top would be a feat.


If we asked her the problem, would she come clean?

Could we provide any help she might require?

Or maybe she just found the warmest seat in the place?

Here’s to proving normal is just a setting on the dryer!


© K2Au 2014

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