Television

I could tell
That there wasn’t
A hope in Hell
That
This thing
Was going anywhere.

I was just geared up
For the ride.

The TV was on
When I arrived
And it was still on
When I left.

The intermittent prime time media network babble
Interrupted any honest conversation.

The box
Watched me
While I kissed her
And pulled her sweater
Above her head.

It talked in many character voices.

It played various theme music
While I tugged at her jeans
Down over her ankles
And got down to business.

Her performance was poor.

No Golden Globe Award Nominations
For her.

Her unresponsive skinny body
Pale bright
In the flickering lambent bloom
Exploding from
The television.

She had cable ready eyes
Empty
Preferring to watch
Anything
Other than her own reality.

Even that right before her.

I walked home
That evening
With a depressed feeling
Taking notice
Of all of the windows
Showing the same
Desperate
Electric
Resignation
To life.