Member-only story
SHORT FORM | 150 WORDS
TV and a Captive Audience — Save Me from the Noise, Noise, Noise
Anytime I’m re-introduced to modern television, I flinch
All I wanted was an oil change.
The friendly associate stands ready to help.
If only I could hear him.
The lobby has the requisite TV, volume ungodly,
echoing, piercing the cavernous space,
seated customers zombied-out.
Ah yes, I’d forgotten regular TV.
The boob tube, the idiot box.
Two hosts, practicing one-upmanship,
simultaneously topping one another
in an aural firehose of inhuman, insincere
enthusiasm for filler nonsense.
Like QVC on crack.
“Look, doesn’t he look fabulous, Mia!?!”
“Did you say TWO CUPS of oregano, Chantal?!?!”
I morph into the Grinch, eyeballs spinning,
Save me from the noise, noise, noise.
This. Right here. My biggest nightmare for old age.
Trapped in endless waiting rooms,
no power to turn off maniacal talking heads.
Through sign language and lip reading,
I book an oil change, (hopefully),
face the blather, and wonder…
Why so fearful of our thoughts,
amidst a needed quiet?
