shooting people

for the first time in nine years,
i think about getting a tv.
lately i just want to passively absorb,
take it all in by osmosis.
writing takes too much effort
and my dwindling attention
can’t attend to the books i’m reading.
in the cafe, the barista remarks
that my name is the name of a woman
from a show called mob wives.
i laugh nervously, not knowing
whether this is a good thing
or a bad thing.
just knowing that it is a thing
makes me anxious.
i feel uncomfortable about
sharing my name with this
mob wife named renee.
i bet she watches tv all the time.
in my room, i spend long hours
sitting in my armchair watching
the lights change color in my lamp,
candles throwing light up against
the bare cinderblock wall.
i think about what i would watch on tv.
nature documentaries, maybe.
the cheetah with the gazelle in its mouth,
the whales before they go extinct,
the woman eating the man’s heart out of his chest
and smiling for the camera,
trying so hard to be real.


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