Washing Machines

I saw you, in secret
In my head we are in glad rags
And holding hands

The green on the knees of your skinny jeans
Faded in the washing machine
Like you from my memory

I cut down our oak tree by the bayou
It was too big to fit in the trunk of my car
So I fed it to the river

I’m stuck in that afternoon
When I yelled out goodbye
But you were too far to hear me

I’m still the same, but different
I burn my stained clothes now
Because I am terrified of washing machines