To TLC's Coy Trading Spaces
by Hezekiah
Allen Taylor
Had we but budget beyond a thousand and time
Past forty-eight, think of the decorative crimes
We could commit with the help of Amy Wynn--
The joyous color or texture, an eclectic sin.
We each have our favorites, lined side by side,
Yet I still hope beyond hope Frank's taken out with the tide:
The overdone craft fair exploded on set
Though no middle-class housewife has cried "Holy shit!"
As I often have when confronted with his creations
And I can't help but consider them fifth grade imitations.
But, I have to admit a soft spot for some boys:
Doug Wilson and Vern Yip bring multiple joy.
For once, clean lines! For once, great color!
And no over-the-top country that might thrill my mother!
An architect's eye, a designer's real power,
Could it be that masculinity should take over this hour?
They'd have to bring Ty in more often, make him the rage
And dump Genevieve, Laurie, Hilda and Paige.
Remember that episode where he goofed
on the Jersey Devil and offered false proof?
If only all of the spaces could be that amusing
But often I find them just plain confusing.
Genevieve, why did you put moss on the wall?
And, Hilda, a room done in black, that's quite a hard call.
However, some of you ladies do deserve praise.
Laurie has often made an elegant maze
Arise from the ashes of cheap bargain furniture,
Although I'm not sure those rooms had a real future
Because, in the end, the middle class prefers white
And wood and plaid couches; it's in the stereotype.
I hope against hope that Doug and Vern may prevail
And allow great design cross this country to sail
And yet America clings to her decorator virginity
And will not admit for any bold color an affinity.
So I will watch Trading Spaces and cry as I realize
That Frank will be praised and never out with the tide.
***
A ridiculous rant based on "To His Coy Mistress"
by Andrew Marvell, the full text of which can be found at http://www.poets.org/poems/poems.cfm?prmID=2311.
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