I love to turn them all on
sit in the kitchen
close my eyes
listen
to the music of machines
hear them do my work for me:
wash my clothes, clean my dishes,
dissolve my garbage.
I bought a lawn mower just to ride around in
hear its hum, pretend to trim the grass I don’t have.
It smooth sailed over the concrete down the block
to the next street my Slow Moving Vehicle.
Where are the cows when you need one? Where
are the chickens? My toaster is my favorite appliance.
I can decide how to set it depending on my taste.
I like it medium to dark, brown enough so I know it’s toast,
but not burnt. I don’t like black flecks sprinkled across my plate.
I’ve never owned an electric knife. Too much margin for error.
My father never used one to carve the turkey.
Instead he used the knife he’d had since he got married,
right after the war. A wedding gift from some uncle
I never met. It was stainless steel and he sharpened it
religiously. I could see it shine from across the room.
Real cooks don’t use electric knives, he’d say.
They make them better now—with batteries.
If he were alive, I might buy him one, just to try.
I would not tell him about my tractor
or talk about the cows.