©Jeanne E. Webster
On a fateful day in the month of May,
I was browsing in a store,
When my eyes beheld a sleek silver machine
Setting on a box on the floor.
With good intentions and very high hopes
Of hours saved from work,
I bought that machine, a canister-type,
From the bold and brassy clerk.
She told me it would clean furniture
And drapes, and floors, and rugs,
Pick up pet hair, dirt, and sand
Watermelon seeds and…bugs.
I brought it home and set about
To super-clean the rooms.
Look out dirt and dust and…bugs,
Here comes Super-broom!
My troubles began when I turned it on;
It roared and lurched and moaned;
It snorted and sucked here and there;
It was the darnest thing I ever owned!
It made a bee-line for the dangling drapes
Hanging an inch off the floor,
Gulped an earring lost a few days ago,
Then hungered for more and more.
I wrestled with it from room to room
Getting tangled up with the hose;
It coiled up my ankle like a boa constrictor
While the end of it went for my toes.
At last I decided I’d had quite enough
And unplugged it from the juice.
The roaring, snorting, and moaning stopped.
Whew! I finally reached a truce.
My last task for the day was to empty out
The innards of this machine;
My earring, a dime, and a button
From the dust and dirt I did glean.
I quickly packed up that dastardly thing;
Back into its box it went.
I buried it up in the attic closet
Alongside that dastardly tent.
I might retrieve it again someday;
I don’t really know for sure.
Sometimes it’s best to stick to older things,
And not mess with the sleeker and newer.
[written on a day when all was well, until…]