The
dishwasher does not clean well
Stranded
food particles crust and smeared compartments of waste
Lay
unaltered when I go to remove the immaculate and the unfazed
The
machine is builder-basic, a non-option taken with the as-is
When
I purchased my third home as an adult before the age of thirty-three
I
want to replace the dishwasher with a better functioning model
Higher-dollar
with settings and a mute button, but
I
do not plan on staying here either
My
escape scheme is into month ten
I
still wipe the bowls with grub left on the rim
Like
the chin of a geriatric nursing home denizen or a toddler
I
am really not sure at this point
The
rationale is stagnant like a parasite of ordinary choices
Filling
the space between the concurrent start and finish line
Round-about,
I think of all the places I have washed dishes
There
was the starter-kit shotgun apartment Uptown
Back
with the roach explosion
I
recall the one blocked in by the added wood flooring over the clover tile
In
the first remodeled home before the baby was born
There
was the one at the in-laws house in the commotion
At
least I could do the dishes while they all talked
I
imagine the double super-silent Kenmore Elite models in the big place
When
everything else went silent I could finally hear the hum
The
rental house with the seventies flip-model holding on to dear life
The
repair man was never called out for the landlord
Now
this one from 2010 and the machine is so fucking loud my ears rumble
I
love to cook, but I know the dollars would just go down the drain
As
my brain has been out, skipped the door ages ago
Time
has such subtle kidnappings
I
think about picking out my own dishwasher again
To
be able to read on my Kindle in the same room without the travesties
Of
raucous air-play or crystalized roux pasted to gumbo bowls
Such
a victory may not fit every man, but for me I would deem it
Quite
a moment for ovation
No comments:
Post a Comment