The Kitchen Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka

The Kitchen

The argument begins early in the day.
Actually it's not really a dispute. It's about
prepping our home for the maid to re-organize
the mess we create every two weeks.

We do not have any time to allot to our own
life's trivia. It's being interrupted with doctors
appointments. Entertainment choices.
Shopping for food. Coupon clipping.

Even though I adapted to her inability to drive
after nearly two years of surgeries is very
time-consuming. Plus we have own difficulties
for different reasons, like bending to the floor

does not help. I because of my girth. She because
of back surgeries that screwed her vertebrae
with exotic metal rods. Everything that falls
stays there until we start tripping over it.

In any case, it's a ritualistic arguing that occurs
everytwo weeks. I want to get rid of the maids,
she counters we can't live without them.
Every two weeks it's a sort of spiritual cleansing.

And so life goes on for the exceptional times
when for instance at the moment on the car radio
Haydn ends and Rahmaninoff begins something
or other she starts with,

As soon as we get home we have to do
the kitchen, the kitchen, the kitchen.
Irritated beyond courtesy I burst
after her 3rd kitchen,

F#$K THE KITCHEN!