An Ode to the Dishwasher in August

Oh dishwasher
at this time of year I don’t know
who I love more:
you, or stove
without stove, I could not can
without oven, I could not roast
but, oh, dishwasher
you pick me up when I am falling
you complete
the endless parade of dishes
when I close your door
and hear your eager chirp
I know:
what you do is out of love-
love and purpose, inexorably entwined
I caress your surface with soft cloths
I clean your filters of debris
I wipe hard water build up
with lemon-scented vinegar
for you, dear dishwasher:
All of this and more

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