At the Laundromat

At the laundromat,
Saranac Lake, NY,
hermits and cabin-dwellers gather for their seasonal washings,
loaded down with blankets & woolen coats,
dressed in well-worn dungaries,
slipping outside to roll a smoke,
and catching up on winter's gossip.
It is the community hall for mountain men & woman,
folks that still exist in seeming contradiction to this being the year 2008 everywhere else.
I probably don't fit it,
my jeans not being worn thin enough,
listening to an audiobook on my ipod
and posting to my blog on my Treo smartphone,
yet they smile at me none-the-less,
a fleeting part of their community
on this day.