Categories
Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

wake me when it’s time for carson

as a child
sitting cross-legged
before our mammoth television
on seventies avocado shag carpeting

i would stand quickly
run to the old wooden zenith floor model
slamming a soft palm
into the black and silver power switch
when i became overwhelmed
scared by what i was seeing

thereby reducing
the horror squared
to a tiny speck of pixel light center screen
that in moments would magically
cease to be

calm returned

now at 36
i feel much the same way
about the state of humanity
about the state of the dying world

we are the most grandiose fools
to ever crawl from primordial ooze

there is no button to be pushed
i’ve had my fill
i don’t want to see anymore

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