My
grandpa owned a laundry
And my father worked there, too.
A visit from the owner’s kids
Nobody thought taboo.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
A visit was a treat;
And thinking of it now, I smile,
The recollection sweet.
and we'd usually see Bozo - and often it was a stop before or after coney island - and don't forget grandpa running his finger around the edge of the bottle before he let you drink it!
ReplyDeletewow! of course i remember bozo and the other guy you were afraid of, but i don't remember that about grandpa running his finger around the bottle. also - remember the giant safety pins? i couldn't work that in.
ReplyDelete