I was five then, as we crowded around
the black and white TV,
watching patterns on a blank screen labeled
THIS IS JUST A TEST.
When the high-pitched drone became
unbearable, we reluctantly switched it
Now we have
color and vexing bands of text
in mindless confusion.
of nonstop “entertainment”
is yours for the asking -
only Beware: turning it Off
becomes an inner, not outer process.
Pausing alongside that drive
well traveled by others living
worlds apart from where I am today,
the ghost of a little girl riding her blue Schwinn
steams by in vaporous hues -
streamers plugging handlebars,
playing cards clipped between spokes.
Gazing up, a single red-tailed hawk
soars above the madness.
Rejoicing in cloudless flight is something
I long ago learned from its kin.
Pulling the rental car into gear,
wheels headed now for gravel roads.