He watches drums turn like Fresnel lenses
Salt crust flakes from his wool coat sleeves
The spin cycle hums its low resonance
Quarters stack in towers he never leaves
Rain hammers glass where beacon once swept
Steam rises thick from wet denim loads
His joints creak slow where gears once slept
Soap scent cuts through brine on winter roads
He keeps the light in spin cycle rhythm
Watches whites turn bright in sodium glow
No ships to save, just cotton prism
Keeper rusts where rushing waters flow
Logbook pages yellow in his breast pocket
Ink blurred by decades of Atlantic spray
Now he folds sheets like charts, won't unlock it
Counts revolutions through the long day
He keeps the light in spin cycle rhythm
Watches whites turn bright in sodium glow
No ships to save, just cotton prism
Keeper rusts where rushing waters flow
Fluorescent tubes replace the oil wick flame
Dryer vents exhale where foghorns cried
But every night he speaks the same name
Steady now steady the turning tide
Dawn breaks gray on detergent aisle floors
He mops the tile where boot prints fade
No log entry for these metal doors
Just lint trap cleaning on his round shade
Brass fittings green beneath his fingernails
Lens polish cloth now wipes down machine
He charts the cycles never fails
Keeps darkness clean keeps white routine
He keeps the light in spin cycle rhythm
Watches whites turn bright in sodium glow
No ships to save just cotton prism
Keeper rusts where rushing waters flow
The beam still sweeps in tumble rhythm
Keeper rusts where rushing waters flow
Quarters drop the drum begins to turn
Salt sleep comes with each completed cycle
