IS THIS THING LOADED?
By Tina Lear
It’s late, and I’m doing the last dishes
of the day. I rinse them, swing the door down,
pull out the lower rack, and then
I sigh. Every time.
Someone designed this machine with a lot of thought.
There is a right way to load it.
Twenty years and my wife still won’t do it.
She’s waging her own private revolution
in this two-by-two-by-three-foot box.
Today, she’s put the spatula lengthways
in the top rack. It’s lounging there
across all the little indentations
meant for cups and saucers,
legs crossed, arms behind its flat, slotted head,
smoking a joint. She’s put the plates all kinked
and off kilter. I hate that.
But a couple of months ago, she was gone
for a couple of days, and I had to load it wrong,
just to feel her close. Now, I get it.
I love my wife. She loads with panache:
The plates snap their fingers
like bohemians in black turtlenecks,
clearly enjoying the salad bowl
lying naked on her side,
waiting for the waves.
It’s jazz fusion in there.
Abstract expressionism.
Performance art.
New York City in a Kenmore.
The dishes go anywhere they want.
of the day. I rinse them, swing the door down,
pull out the lower rack, and then
I sigh. Every time.
Someone designed this machine with a lot of thought.
There is a right way to load it.
Twenty years and my wife still won’t do it.
She’s waging her own private revolution
in this two-by-two-by-three-foot box.
Today, she’s put the spatula lengthways
in the top rack. It’s lounging there
across all the little indentations
meant for cups and saucers,
legs crossed, arms behind its flat, slotted head,
smoking a joint. She’s put the plates all kinked
and off kilter. I hate that.
But a couple of months ago, she was gone
for a couple of days, and I had to load it wrong,
just to feel her close. Now, I get it.
I love my wife. She loads with panache:
The plates snap their fingers
like bohemians in black turtlenecks,
clearly enjoying the salad bowl
lying naked on her side,
waiting for the waves.
It’s jazz fusion in there.
Abstract expressionism.
Performance art.
New York City in a Kenmore.
The dishes go anywhere they want.