Ace Shirt Laundry

My grandpa owned a laundry And my father worked there, too. A visit from the owner’s kids Nobody thought taboo. We rode up on the laundry carts With giant sacks of clothes. The workers never seemed to mind – They couldn’t, I suppose. The best thing was the Coke machine – My grandpa had the key, Which he would use to grab a soda, Ice-cold, just for me. I’d place that bottle in the slot; The cap would click and drop. I’d gulp that Coca Cola (free!) And never want to stop. Though years have passed, I close my eyes And conjure up that place – The smell of bleach, the burlap bags, My grandpa giving chase. It’s strange how we can focus On some memories so clear, While others seem, without a trace, To up and disappear. That laundry had a child’s allure. A visit was a treat; And thinking of it now, I smile, The recollection sweet.