The Big Show

 

 

The Big Show

This poem begins at 4pm, in front of the TV,
on a green rug, edited for time. It is a Tuesday,
so even joy will have consequences. Friday,
and this poem might crush Tokyo or be doomed
to drink your blood. Wednesday, comic; Monday,
a mystery; Thursday, romance with song&dance.

This poem might have been fun with giant ants
in tap shoes. Or werewolves. What if the love
story took place onstage, not in teary flashbacks?
There might be a murder. Color. Bar fights. But
this poem begins at 4pm Tuesday. You know
that accepting any premise has consequences.