of kids, television was an invention
of small proportions.  Now, my son
wakes up with a TV in his brain.
Gray screen, we look to you
for the straight-up sassy, shock me
in 2-D technicolor.  Can you be
our town square, a high before supper?
A puddle of lovers framed in black
wavers on the walnut table
as Dad turns the page of a book
he is reading to win my Mother back.
It never happened this way.  Did it happen this way?
Electricity knows how to find
its current, its one true path.  I'm a by-product
of TV-time's electron sea, when Dad leaned over to Mom
and stopped her clock:  dissonant chord followed
by consonant chord.  Bugs dodges Elmer
dodges Bugs.  Resolution is measured
in pixels, the smallest area of stored memory.