We are, I am
so full of
electronic living.
A Violet glow of
flimsy shadow
slides me down deeper
into button-tufted marshmallow –
the faux-leather quicksand
where thousands have
already died.
Oh!
the high fidelity screams!
Oh!
the colour-balanced terrors,
all fifty-five inches of them interlaced!
The worst of everything
smears our face.
Like Little Alex,
with his nose shoved in it,
we are a
Bad
Dog…
to be picked up
and dropped on fouled newspaper,
where such belong.
Over time,
we will get the hint.
Robert On The Air 