it was a damned fine night
for some lurid local news.
Mamaw tunes in every evening
for Tony Cavalier’s take on the forecast.
i don’t trust that weatherman
with the made up sounding name
or the usual junk disguised as journalism.
tonight, though, they caught my attention.
some producer was trying to reach out
and touch my trashy, rubbernecking heart.
they reeled me in and i felt sort of sorry

for the wild-eyes murderess
convicted and filed away for life.
cause truthfully, who hasn’t wanted
to go at a sorry sumbitch or two
with his own fourteen inch
decorative dagger?
and who ever knew
a tsotschky could transcend
from gathering dust on a shelf somewhere
to the deadly star
of the scene of the crime?