by;
Jessica Singleton
Sat in his hat.
Drank a cup of yesterday.
Knew his lost .
Stole a smoke from the friend on his shoulder.
Damn yesterday and the bed that it urinated in.
Once upon a time there was this building full of people who believed in watching the outlets at night. They were amazed at how things went into play and then lit up the world.
But none of them had the bright lights it took.
Every night wasted away.
I lived there for years. The smell was bad enough. I did enjoy the silence. Heaven knows none of them talked back to the outlets. I think they were waiting on a message from the great beyond.
I was in my home one night and I saw this lady in the hallway. She was excited about a
cord that was dangling from her purse. I saw the vacant look in her eyes.
That is when I knew something was wrong with this picture.
But what can you say?
No one knows.
Not that I'd talk to strangers anyway.
So one night I finally had to.
I saw a group of them talking in the hallway.
They were even more excited about a box set television.
They kept going on about how all those little voices talked back to them unlike the outlets.
So now they'd rather watch the TV.
I ask if they liked to read.
But they looked at me as though I'd just wet the bed.
I walked on and I went home instead.
Too bad I did not have anything clever to add.
Then maybe they'd want to talk to me.
I know that is what I wanted for Christmas.
A group of blanks to connect dots in a box and then circle around me.
So my life could mean as less as theirs.
Most of their time was spent talking about other people's lives.
The voices that they saw on that screen.
I guess because of the lack of their own.
Damn they are smart.
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