July 21, 2011

Sometimes...Moving Sucks...

Ballad of a Broken TV

Were you, Big Black Tele,
a gift of dorm days long?
Or severance from glee
filled nights once happy?

Left in a basement cold
you were rescued for me;
dusted, adjusted, behold
an off-green screen to see.

First move a simple four steps,
a half flight; but you trekked
cross country, to New Mex
shook n’ rocked but not cracked.

Ascended to floor two
through winding narrow stairs;
to descend again in June
friend complaints followed glares.

At Puerto del Sol we
lived celebrated days;
Favre’s INT, Boosh Mighty,
Roadhouse RIP Swayze.

Take you apart my friend?
See that one ton mirror?
Fix the bulb colored red?
Converge lines to make clear?

No, your bold brokenness
outlasted the burnt Daewoo;
you made gold the NES;
not all great things are new.

Alas, the POD wasn’t
a grand sized caravan;
and Seth’s threats to dent
my head caused me to plan.

Your demise would be sweet:
hauled down one last steel flight,
pushed one block down the street,
left for someone else’s delight.