The Price of Insomnia
Late at night, with sleep a fairy tale
that wouldn’t come true, I’d lie
on the couch staring at the tube.
Long before satellite and cable
connections, when streaming
meant getting your feet wet.
When an antenna on the roof
was the primary connection
to the outside world.
When programming ended
for the night and infomercials
were the only thing on the air.
I’d watch them hawk their wares
until I finally fell asleep to their voices
fading into the white noise of test patterns,
with visions of the highest-grade zirconium
or Teflon-clad pots with an ironclad guarantee,
the stuff that dreams are made of.
This is my response to Sarah’s prompt at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, Acting like animals! We’re asked to used the name of an animal as a verb.
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