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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