Static on the Retinas

The remote is swallowed by the velvet crack

and I don’t have the heart to reach in deep.

I’ve watched the water rise and turn to black

while city streets are washed away like sheep.

Then comes the man who wants to sell a bed,

a cooling foam to help a person rest.

I watch the blue light pool inside my head

and settle like a weight upon my chest.

The seltzer in the glass is warm and flat,

the bubbles dying slow against the rim.

There is no way to reconcile all that

until the screen and I are both gone dim.