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Washing Machine
The
washing machine is a singularly
uninspiring piece of functional kitchen equipment
But it whitens our whites
and cleans our clothes
It follows its programmes an' does what it's told
& It doesn't ask questions
It's quite a revolution in our kitchens
So I popped all my worries into the tub
Rounded up all my unfinished business
Even a few stray wayward affairs
found shoved down the side of the bed
Didn't escape cycle number three -
high temperature, all stains removed,
No traces, no memories, sounded good to me.
Just what I'd been looking for
I bought while stocks lasted
Before it was too late
It's time to bleach
All those grimy collars
Rinse away the awful times I thought I'd found
The Powder for Me
This time I'll make no mistake
This time it's for real
I know I can have confidence
In 'Suds-u-Like's ultra performance
No-mercy cleansing properties
My Life tumbles round, aimlessly, meaningless
Looking for landmarks, points of repair
Fortunes run hot and cold, life is a cycle
Dream-woven taffeta, hopes lie threadbare
But I didn't pay close enough attention
To that sneaky little label
Tucked away under the armpit of my favourite sweater
Saying 'Important: Hand Wash Only'
Now my beautiful ex-white sheets
are a touching shade of pink
Reminding me of other accidents
Melancholy moments tingeing
what I'd like to remain so pure
I popped my worries into the tub
but to no avail
No amount of churning round
seems to make them pale
My grubby greens
stay sodden and soiled
The blues I so carefully nurtured
are now a grimy shade of grey
My favourite shirt's lost a button
And the summer of '87
is creased beyond belief
And far from smelling of fresh pine forests
The odour of tainted romance
Comes drifting back again
I'm disappointed
Suds-u-Like has let me down
It didn't do what the adverts claimed
Still I press the 'power-clean' button
again and again
Hoping that this time, maybe
I'll get my washing right
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