No one watches video tapes of talent shows
they all just sit in cardboard boxes
like the dead do in the moments
before burning.

The ladle in the metal pot
is balanced on the rim of it
but wavering severely now,
because the whole room
isn’t hungry, they are over it.

She leans against the fireplace,
that hasn’t been ignited
in a decade, and improves
upon the wood work like they paid her.
I gamble with a slower walk but pick it up
the more I start to realize.

In the driveway now the party continues
while the silhouettes from back inside
are pressed against the window glass.
There’s an unattended collision
on fire in the street, blocking everyone in,
and the distant sirens just keep getting farther.

I wrap my t-shirt around a tree branch
and steal a little flame from all the curling
metal melting there in front of me.

I think we were meant to keep
to ourselves, but that’s over now,
since everyone knows everyone.
I always needed a little T.V. light
to peer into the dark
and get the latest on
what’s worth being afraid of.

I hope one day it is loud enough
to worry you.

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