O Dyson – My Dyson!
Monday, August 27, 2012 at 7:00AM 
With MANY apologies to Walt Whitman, I (Elana) have this rebuttal to John's preferred choice of hand dryer (the Xlerator):
O DYSON! My Dyson! My handwashing is done;
The soap has scoured every joint, the goal I sought is won;
The door is near, the dinner bell I hear, diners all exulting,
While mine ears detect the steady stream, your airblade forceful blaring:
But O hands! Hands! Hands!
O the dripping beads of water,
Where on my arms, my hands lie,
Softly warm and dry.
O Dyson! My Dyson! Power up and feel the force;
Hands up – for you the towel is flung – for you the damp disperses;
For you the bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths–for you the crowd’s a-crowing;
For you they call, the washing masses, their wet hands turning;
Here Dyson! Dear dryer!
This arm beneath your airblade;
You are a dream that in this loo,
You’ve dried my hands, two.
My Dyson does not speak, its words are but a whisper;
My Dyson does not feel my arm, he has no pulse or will;
The dryer is anchor’d to the wall, its mission closed and done;
From bathroom trip, the diner, exits with object won;
Exult, O hands, and ring, O bells!
But I, with dried hands,
Walk the aisle to my table nigh,
Softly warm and dry.
Reader Comments (2)
Bahahaha. Magic. I love this!
Dysons to the right of me...xcelerators to the left of me, vollyed and thundered...what ever happened to the damn paper towels so that you have something to use on the door knob to prevent contamination from the slob who doesn't wsh his hands?
P.S......I don't apologize to Tennyson.