wasting another night (watching t.v.)

everyone like likes guy. guy she

sleeps with is best friend’s lover.

then he disappears. texts a message

about driving to idaho. and right before

the last big commercial break where they

run seven detergents everybody says shhhh

right here

listen

it’s secret gossip time. it’s the end wrapped

up in clear saran. it’s hollywood’s aluminum

truths. like he is guilty and so is she and the smarmy

madame isn’t dead after all in fact she’s

her own series now and everyone will watch

next week and says she loves only me so

hard her eyes are openripe blueberries but

everyone’s cranium is stuffed with jiffypop

styrofoam and rubber lips and cigarette butts.

and if everyone carried superglue

at least i could fix a few bullet holes

before the next cop detective with

broken love

life

has to solve the two-minute opener of

what could be the apocalypse in 52 minutes

starting next on a screen built for just

everyone and now me. i got hoovered.

but i would like to ask everyone

if i can staple our shades closed

because i don’t want my american neighbors

to know i’m dumb enough to drink this stuff.

and someday i’ll maybe just

laugh off her igloo smile

with my glacierglacier eyes and

when everyone says she wants me

to stay right here. on the couch. next

to her. and her swirling chardonnay.

i will ignore her celebrity flashbulb teeth

and her sleek rolex wrists and that radioactive

tan cause everyone wants to lick my

open tongue while she’s smiling. but

it’s the same old same old

story. over and over again.