Couched
thrilled hullaballoo,
dramatic and perilous,
rampages in a luminous fish bowl.
it's kill or be killed,
while the beautiful kiss,
villains without conscience,
intermittent with hawkers
in 1am advertisements.
on the nearby couch,
the one sentient zombie moves slow,
even when the plot
slaughters toward climax.
the zombie's lips lounge with the aplomb of worms,
pupils agape in utter daze
at the procession of mindless,
prostituted myths.
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8/16 "bowl" replaces "tank"
Grading lots of summer papers and prepping for Fall ... very little time to write poems
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