Commercial Break {Poetry}

Every so often, I will write a post that has nothing to do with a particular TV show…we all need a break from our routines once in awhile. Here is a poem by Tim Seibles, whom I met a few years ago at a poetry reading. I remember Tim telling me “poetry is bread.” Comparatively, sometimes TV can have the same effect as “junk food.” Read on:

    Commercial Break: Road-Runner, Uneasy

    If I didn’t know better I’d say
    the sun never moved ever,

    that somebody just pasted it there
    and said the hell with it,

    but that’s impossible.
    After awhile you have to give up

    those conspiracy theories.
    I get the big picture. I mean,

    how big can the picture be?
    I actually think it’s kind of funny —

    that damn coyote always scheming,
    always licking his skinny chops

    and me, pure speed, the object of all
    his hunger, the everything he needs —

    talk about impossible, talk about
    the grass is always greener

    I am the other side of the fence.

    You’ve got to wonder, at least a little,
    if this could be a set-up:

    with all the running I do —
    the desert, the canyons, the hillsides, the desert —

    all this open road has got to
    lead somewhere else. I mean,

    that’s what freedom’s all about, right?
    Ending up where you want to be.

    I used to think it was funny — Roadrunner
    the coyote’s after you Roadrunner…

    Now I’m mainly tired. Not that
    you’d ever know. I mean

    I can still make the horizon
    in two shakes of a snake’s tongue,

    but it never gets easier out here, alone
    with Mr. Big Teeth and his ACME supplies:

    leg muscle vitamins, tiger traps,
    instant tornado seeds.

    C’mon! I’m no tiger.
    And who’s making all this stuff?

    I can’t help being a little uneasy.
    I do one of my tricks,

    a rock-scorching, razor turn at 600 miles an hour,
    and he falls off the cliff, the coyote —

    he really falls: I see the small explosion,
    his body slamming into dry dirt

    so far down in the canyon
    the river looks like a crayon doodle.

    That has to hurt, right?
    Five seconds later, he’s just up the highway

    hoisting a huge anvil
    above a little, yellow dish of bird feed —

    like I don’t see what’s goin’ on. C’mon!

    You know how sometimes, even though you’re
    very serious about the things you do,

    it seems like, secretly, there’s a
    big joke being played,

    and you’re part of what
    someone else is laughing at — only

    you can’t prove it, so you
    keep sweating and believing in

    your career, as if that
    makes the difference, as if somehow

    playing along isn’t really

    playing along as long as you’re
    not sure what sort of fool

    you’re being turned into, especially
    if you’re giving it one-hundred percent.

    So, when I see dynamite
    tucked under the ACME road-runner cupcakes,

    as long as I don’t wonder why my safety
    isn’t coming first in this situation,

    as long as I don’t think me
    and the coyote are actually

    working for the same people,

    as long as I eat and

    get away I’m not really stupid,

    right? I’m just fast.




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One Response to Commercial Break {Poetry}

  1. websites says:

    My family all the time say that I am wasting my time here at net, except I know I am getting familiarity every day
    by reading such nice articles.

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