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The Advertiser's Dream

“Come in and sit down”
said the celluloid voice,
smooth as silk.
Cautiously I stepped
through the TV screen,
to take my place.

“I will show you a world”
it continued,
“That bears no relation
to what you consider as
REALITY.”

The air around electrified,
as the set was powered to life.

Beautiful bodies playing on a beach,
running into the foaming sea;
sun ripening skin, bleaching hair;
Then, from nowhere a can appears,
elixir of every surfer, sun worshipper.

Somewhere in the distance
a distinctive throaty roar,
the romantic throb of a Harley;
ridden by a pair of jeans
giving identity to,
some muscular male bimbo;
A dream of America
and freedom.

Slow moody blues solo
hangs in the air;
a guitar talking to a journeyman,
familiar but not remembered.
Every note sustained, holding breath,
then carried by a riff
from a bottle of bourbon.

Outside the set
beautiful bodies are burning up,
through a hole in the ozone.
(Too many limousines and Harleys)
The alcoholic looks on, wide eyed,
trying to see a way in,
really believing there is one.

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Published in Peer Poetry, April 1997.

I have been writing since my teens. It has been an urge, an itch I have had to scratch. This work is the result of that irritation, I hope you enjoy it.

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