tv watchin girl

she checked herself

against another morning

of dutiful obeisance
renting heads out for free
on an episodic wave of programmed
tv
perry mason would take her
unfulfilled potential white
and black past
noon
subject and object
switched
a murder mystery
is watching
me

journal

Journal # 11.21.16

You and me, we coexist. Can I describe for you the life you have not lived? Buttons where there were zippers, snow where there was rain, silence where there were people. The television set. But we have so much in common. That’s so very nice I could squeeze you like a teddy bear, then fall back asleep. If I see you in the park and study you like a painting, if I read you like a magazine, in joyful discovery, may I fall in love with the complexity of you. Between two points you travel, on lunch break, switching lines on your cell phone, waiting in line at the café, removing your glove so your device can recognize you, swiping screens to get to the mapping application and plot out your next move. I will embody your background the best that I can. I make for pleasant scenery, they say. I understand how it is to be so busy in the life. I am honored in your presence. Not to have time to peel an orange, or a sunset. One day this careless wandering of mine may end, too.

more than most can take

remember when

            we were

glazed
twisted
french
cake?

with instant coffee
at the break
and more than most
can take?

all i got is your

flat screen tv
a drill
i wanna sell
some inkjet printers from

the land of lost toys
where we once lived

you related with
tv characters over me

not the people
not the actors
but parts they were playing
police detectives
not real ones

to miss the
true crime

broken heart hypersensitives
in the land of no shame
got what we wanted
(was) high all the time. how strange
to know it (and still proceed knowing)
how counterfeit

why is that so fascinating?

you had me too
under cosmos
free internet speed
windows #7
pharmaceutical-grade weed
(you had me)
all about the
floor

my clothes
you washed them dry
i could not keep up with our snail-paced life
i tried

i guess i wrote all
over you
too

nobody scared me like me
and you in our sorry spiral
toppled up to the dresser
where we made up a million times

our palette of minerals
buff and of cream
finishing powder

at home where
we were sure never to
be seen

KatYa
(remix @ 2011)