Connie Chung looks at me in
my human TV screen.
She says, "Taxes are for
the rich; poor people
are for the poor.
Nobody knows what
they're saying anymore."
The year is two thousand seventeen,
and 17 year olds are too lucky
to be a live these days.
Nothing matters more
than what anybody says.
Her kind doll face,
a fake ficus, daybreak
news anchors, Paradise buffet,
Philidelphia, Artificial environment,
12,000 dollar cameras,
downtown Austin TV studio.
Pinapple and a bagel.
Wispy grey sky.
Precious fragile mind.
People full of fluffy
jellybeans, infinity
frivilous rainbows.
No comments:
Post a Comment