Trapped in a Launderette

Clockwise
Steaming, rumbling
Hot water pumping

Between me and the wall is
The front of my face
And a watching machine, a mechanism
For mesmerising you
Using your own kecks
And an orange garment that flashes past
Diagonally, collapsing in a vortex
Of linen, sodden

Anti-clockwise
Sinking in warmth
Languishing, thinking

It has a screen which is showing
The front of my face
And behind me a duplicate row of O's
A peep-show for those with lascivious eyes
Aghast at the sight
Of my innards displayed

Spin
It's taken me in