2003-02-04 - 11:35 a.m.
Hey washing machine
Hey there, washing machinethanks for being free.
Already you've saved me 10 bucks
in quarters better spent on candy, and phone calls, and the discarded homeless veterans
who pile up with their dirty sacks on the Drag and just wait.
Tonight as my blankets and sheets spin around inside you, sweating out Ajax-tainted water in your sauna-like conditions,
I listen to the radio and savor your industry;
though you don't stop going once your start button's pushed, you won't burn my clothes as long as I remember to remove them.
We're a team, you and I.
Tonight I will sleep in a dry bed, and it's all because of you.
Too bad you're going soon;
the maintenance man says our rental company plans to replace you, because you aren't serving them anymore but us ��the tenants.
You've learned a lesson of the modern age: Though you show loyalty and work almost normally, still you are inadequate.
Maybe some scrap metal company will buy your body and use your skin and innards to make new machines
that don't rattle so loudly; you are a cantankerous sort.
But if you end up in the dump, where many other metal boxes resembling you lie,
I hope you'll somehow avoid the rotting vegetables and dirty diaper seas and rest in peace.
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Things are going to get a lot worse before they get worse. � Lily Tomlin |
