At night, I gaze at people hunting houses on the
savanna boardwalk townhouse plains.
Sometimes sit with my friend and watch those
fossil fuel burning piston pushers,
twangy accents and headlight stickers,
as the night lights flicker on.
Watch Paula slip into a diabetic coma
in time to see the X get factored out
of the equation set before the big
bang theory starts.
But by then it’s just weight loss
and how you too can find the
alcoholism addiction cure.
Free book, CD, and fishing lure.
But I’m already caught by the ASPCA
and late night infomercial spree.
Ready to get 30 day abs and chop
mountains of perfectly sliced and diced
vegetables for Foreman grills and juicers
I don’t need, and bedazzle my pant legs
because I’m bored and want to see something
that shines in my life other than the
late night flicker of a TV screen.


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