I celebrate the little things that turned Velcro
into cement, the bonding more permanent
because they existed.
Take TV, for instance, I am reminded
of times when screens were rounded,
the cabinet, fine furniture, the center
in a room that gathered the family
with shared laughter or the dimension
of drama, all heightened by eyes meeting
in a mutual reaction
or eyebrows raised in the shape
of “what do you think” when Jeannie,
baring her midriff, winked and giggled
her way into the psyche of times changing.
Dark indeed, those days of no remote
when one had to walk all the way to the TV
to change the channel to one of the three
or, if you had beta cable, ten or twelve to choose
from for the outrageous price of nine-ninety nine.
Paying to watch your own TV. Who could have known
where it would end?
Except, of course, that we are creatures
of need, blindly following the Joneses
in the lusty longing for more, and I ask you,
When was the last time
the whole family sat down
together, as the scent of popcorn
wafted through the room?
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