The Folding Machine - A Poem
The Folding Machine
A Poem by Michael Raileanu
I feel bad for the folding machine
‘Tis just a utility so routine.
The copy machine is the coolest of them all
Plugged as it is, twice into the wall.
This copy machine now even has his own phone line
To report to The Man each and every little whine.
The time clock has a certain amount of clout
Marking as it does everyone else’s in and out.
The folding machine produces nothing of its own
Nothing so much as a kidney stone.
The electric stapler makes cool noises and permanent marks
The shredder is indispensible to today’s office clerks.
The folding machine is at best sort of handy
With a very, very limited modus operandi.
Computers now rule the world
Their keys all shiny and pearled.
The little credit card and fax machines are quite fortunate
Our dumpy little friend to them isn’t a threat.
Recycling bins sit ready to save the earth
Filing cabinets have importance due to their girth.
But the folding machine just sits and sits
Hoping to avoid a mechanical battle of wits.
Shy, wimpy, awkward, goofy and nerdy
When we’re not around, his conversation’s too wordy.
The cashbox and the stamping machine are cool - cha-ching!
He tries to strike up a conversation with them, no-thing!
He sits in his corner wanting to be useful
He just isn’t, so sorry, I’ve got to be truthful.