“How Many Hours of Cable Television Do You Watch in an Average Week?”
—online survey
I stare at two friends talking in French about nothing;
bow to the samurai finding his enemy’s throat.
Give me a ride on your spaceship,
Mister. Show me how a dead man lived
a life of music & indiscretion.
I want every angle of sunlight through a prism,
then mating rites of the solemn, sad, &
bored. There are not enough hours to observe
all interactions. Turn the television on.
It has never disappointed me,
nor I it when I change
the channel to review bad news, junk science,
fatwas, & fatalities. I’ve discarded time.
Ask me yesterday, ask again next week.
“Do You Like Being Sober?”
question asked by Andrea Fekete
Pills wouldn’t erase pain;
would eradicate traces
of awareness,
leave me swimming the backstroke
without water. I loved
being high, &
when the high no longer held me gently,
the drug took away what agony it caused.
At least it calmed.
I confess I enjoyed playing
the desperation game
with dealers who kept me waiting
while I chain-smoked in parking lots.
I miss the lifestyle,
what it taught me about myself,
how it forced me
to be friendly with people
holding knives against my throat.
“Why Is Yellow So Thin?”
question asked by Steve Hoffman
You’re painting your room: a small, spare space,
home office where you can write
without the dog begging for food you don’t have,
children tree-limb sword-fighting, spouse demanding
an answer to what you have done with your life.
For some reason, you’ve chosen yellow.
Orchid would’ve been more soothing, white conducive
to businesslike jotting of words that will change the world,
or not. What you ask describes your Sisyphean curse:
roller goes up, rivulets dribble down in streaks,
tease the baseboard, taste carpet: yellow all over
as though a prank from teens tossing eggs.
You rethink it now—another bad decision, near miss.
Don’t waste your time on the thinness of yellow,
splatter, stains. True beauty sparks in the mistakes.