“Lake-washed chinos,”
the ad said, flashing quickly
across the screen.
She didn’t wonder
what lake they were washed in
or who did the washing. Clearly
no one had washed anything.
She did wonder why someone would think
that someone would think that
“lake-washing” was desirable.
Was it about the remote spot
the words made her see?
She wrote this down
because she recognized it
as a thought—the kind she liked.
Or used to like. One with depth,
with reverb.