Turned on the TV,
and the TV turned on me.
A dog on the screen appeared. I
sneered at how stupid the dog appeared.
Barked, “Jump, Rover – jump!”
And the dog did, jumped clear out of the TV;
turned on me, how Sodom turned on God;
and you know Sodom turned God on,
all that bored-out butt getting stuffed.
Enough to turn God’s Rod into a sly snake.
The mutt onto my Levi cuff glommed,
the day turning into a circus.
With a fist I cuffed the beast.
Grabbed a stick and beat the dog off.
Let him lick up the mess. Chased him
back inside the tube. Where he turned
out to be the locomotive for an ad for
Gravy Train. Turned the TV off,
and the TV turned off all three rings of me – left
on the floor, in the den, bored to death; shot
to hell one more doggone godawful afternoon.
Willie Smith
aiurea press 