Like the microwave

Like the microwave oven I sit
tucked neatly away in some corner

Rectangularly small and pedestrian-white.

People come to stand in front of me. They push
my buttons. That is the only time I'm heard. The
alarm, silence and snapping door closure.

Everyone
wants to have one to use
but few really look inside 
to see their help is needed
to clean me up.

As they age a newer model comes
and you are pushed out
to the street.