Reruns
Rose was
the woman
down the road
an ancient with
a constant ring of blue
cigarette smoke leveled about
her round freshly permed head
had the only satellite dish
an uncle bought a VCR
hooked it to our Touch Tune
Magnavox
and we watched VHS tapes
labeled in her blue Bic ink
I watched Han Solo
point his finger at a princess
admired how Chuck Norris
could beat anyone
but Bruce Lee
I’d let the T-120s
spin out Shaggy
as he ran from ghosts
all those fictional men
had just enough parts
to make me think of you
now
sitting in front of my television
I play those same shows
keeps parts of you alive
and I don’t care
how fictional they may be
3 thoughts on "Reruns"
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Love:
a constant ring of blue
cigarette smoke leveled about
her round freshly permed head
Such a poignant tribute!
What a lovely heartbreaking poem, this line breaks me:
keeps parts of you alive