I never really left
Where we sat
On that dirty teal couch
In my basement

While Lucky would cry
Staring blankly
Under analog screens
As he’d hide,

And shed his hair
Over carpets
Fear damaged again
By each footprint

Of a kid so scared
Seeking safety
On rabbit ear waves
Watching wars

Unfold like games
After school
Being sent back home
Without warning

When September skies
Appeared bluest
For those Tuesday clouds
Sharing sun

Alongside smoke
Feeling changed
But somehow now
Always ready

Seeing static fade
During nightmares
Mashing buttons down there
All alone –

How controllers spoke
On that day
Only knowing truth
Through distraction

Or obsession soon
Getting older
Needing fantasy
Rather than fate

Because childhood
Still didn’t wait
Growing up near sets
Switching stations

To more bad news
Showing reruns
Since life had become
Channel 3.

• J. Pigno