An Ode to Beth, My Vacuum

Beth, a trusty tan Hoover vacuum cleaner with a burgundy cloth dust bag that for years tended to the floors of the Iowa farmhouse of Senator Chuck Grassley, earning admirers in both parties, has died. She was believed to be 49. [...]

“U willl see Beth no more,” Mr. Grassley, 92 and the oldest senator, wrote on social media on Saturday, attaching an image that showed Beth’s electrical cord connector scarred by sparks. “See black that’s from electrical sparks. It’s not safe to use anymore. GOOD BYE BETH.”

— The New York Times, Aug 8 2026

Remember how
we sucked, back then?
When you were new
and I was new
and we were new
together?

You were so loud
and ran so hot
and cost so much
and we both sucked,
we scared the dogs
together.

So long ago.
So many years
now sucked away.
Even the smell
from then has changed;
there was more steel.

And oil, and grease,
and cigarettes,
and carpets were
deep and feral,
like prey laid out
after the hunt.

We vanquished them
as partners then.
We yelled so loud,
and sucked so much
and ran so hot
together.

Back when plastic—
even plastic!—
was new, and good,
and did not suck.
The future, smooth
and soft like birds.

The cord that binds
frays with the years.
A rasp sets in,
the smells all change.
We still run hot
but pace changes.

I fall behind,
you fall ahead.
Our steps don't match.
The smells all change.
The future flies
away, like birds.

Now you are gone
and I am here.
I am still here.
And I must suck
and I will suck
alone.