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TV HONEY

She was kicking it up
And looking at me among others

She hates her tag line
Making fun and having sense
She watched through her fingers

Apparently is her adverb
Actually is mine

The notch we take up,
Is it a belt's,
A ladder's, a mountain pass',
What? And would it be plot point one or two

If I turned to the woman who wanted
To know what makes you an expert
And inquired what makes her such a bitch?

Come to think of it,
Sonatas are nothing like the blues:

If I keep a long range plan that sends me
Into the cryptic skyscraper daily
Tell me that in the long run we're dead,

If I love the surface of things
Know I can barely swim. Here's where the poem
Wants to how to, quote,
And put on the headphones. Here's where

If I wanted to make poetry into money
I would sing to the color
The tv beams when the player's empty.

You, me, and the poems,
That's a lot of individuals
For such a small kitchen