Laundry Day

"Hello Pooch..." I said, side stepping through the open glass window door...Pooch had the disposition of a front porch pooch, sprawled across the laundry's linoleum tile floor, and wasn't inclined to lift an eyebrow at my managing my laundry baskets...not many launderers about, could have my pick of wash machines...more often moms have taken all of them, and I'm left with the choice of the over size more expensive ones...quarters dropped, buttons pushed, I took a seat in Silver to wait, and listen to sports talk radio...oh, it's a yawn how they go on and on, and I daydream a call in to the show, berating them for the ragging on the Lakers all the time--you all are like republicans ragging on democrats!...one of the talkative admitted as much--being republican...they've become negative adjectives, the words, republican...democrat...radio clock indicated 27 minutes had passed...Pooch hadn't moved, and is a big dog...trying to think of adjective for Pooch's looks, I think up "beautiful-ugly"...should be a word that is a combination of beautiful and ugly!...clothes in the dryer, quarters dropped, buttons pushed...time for 36 minutes of pool...just the propieter and friend about in the pool hall, watching the giant tv...same brand as mine, Toshiba, but like three times bigger, and mine is big!...pool hall is about three fourths billiard tables, which I've never played, and it's unusual when three ball billiards is being played around town...but Mexico must play it...hall is a Mexican haunt...one reads a pool hall like a quarterback reads the defense, or a poker player looking for tells in their opponents...a sleepy hall on a laundry day afternoon...I usually just poke the balls about without much intent...overhead lights were out...saving electricity...and I took a pocket pool table near the open entry glass door and windows for light, but the proprietor came over and turned the table lights on...poke poke poke...a ragamuffin comes through the door while I'm sighting..."How much?" he asks...I consider...a wager?...or a table price?...thinking the latter, I point to the proprietor with friend over by the tv...but the ragamuffin pauses to watch my shot...the eight ball is in the middle of the table, about a foot from the bottom rail...the cue is near the side pocket, a foot off the rail...other balls block out, and all I've got is a straight bank off the far rail...if it works, the cue will bounce off the rail, come back, and hit the eight in the center, and the eight will go into the corner to my left...wth...I poke, and it works..."Nice shot..." the ragamuffin says..."Pure luck..." I say...and he goes over to the tv to be with his friends...the old guy may have lifted an eyebrow at the shot...I've yet to see any players of the sort I've seen else ware hereabout...afternoon workaday players for the most part...36 minutes up...I fold the clothes, discover a hole torn in one of my hiking pants...while playing pool, I bumped my iphone and the itune player started up...Dolly Parton and Linda Rondstadt and Emmylou Harris singing...'there were trumpets playing, and the archer split the tree..."...don't know how that could happen, and it took a bit to turn it off...'stick to fauna and flora' the thought, pool cue in my hands...clothes all folded and stacked in the baskets in my arms...going out the door opposite Pooch, I see Pooch's owner finishing up a conversation with a policeman with a billy club...having learned Pooch's disposition, policeman returned to his patrol car, and Pooch's owner sat patient at  one of the little blue picnic-like tables for seating, waiting for his laundry...sunny scattered high clouds warm...oh!...I forgot the girl in black felt ankle high low heel boots, black short shorts, sleeveless t-shirt. flipping a coin outside the laundry door while on her cell phone!...coin got away over the parking lot asphalt, and she had to chase it down...