Mt. Laundry

Mt. Laundry looms above me
All shades of off-white and mud brown
Grass stains on lace
Socks dangling limp and grey from the summit.

I stare up at it and plant my feet
And with a sigh, prepare to haul myself
to the top once more.

Past the grubby T-shirts I climb
Over the towels used to wipe dog feet
clotted with mud
Past the unreported ketchup stain
on the white jeans
And finally, perspiring heavily as I brush
socks from behind my ears
I collapse, having reached the top.

With a howl of triumph,
I stab my flag into the soiled ground.
Mt. Laundry has been conquered--solo!
But in three days
It will rise again...