Seen on television

What position did you wear, glaring out with weekend eyes?
A real woman. Wearing a smile and turpentine.
They cannot buy the things you have, make an offer.
Sipping souls with a slice of lime.
Slip your tongue into another lie.
A strange life where the fake are sanctified.
He’s a real man, he’s the real thing.
He’ll do anything.
Holding out for all but a mother.
Splinter eyes and matchbook teeth.
Both now adrift on that world stage of comedy.
Tracing figure eights and commodity.
She’s a real woman. Saying a prayer into small boxes.
A real man. Attuned to product placement.
Grease those wheels in the mind.
Spin into a Monday morning, hung like a broken jukebox.
Looking now for new interruptions.
Chasing new enemies.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s