Watching Through The Tines

When the evening news is right before your eyes.

You may be multi-tasking, eating otherwise.

Watching those whose every act you wish to countermand.

You didn’t know one answer is right there in your hand.

Raise your fork! Between your peepers and the screen.

And it looks! Like prison bars are in between.

Raise your fork! Hold the contraption steady.

And it works! Now, they’re in jail already.

It’s a way the little guy can make oligarchs get bent.

And place them in his mind where Mussolini never went. *

It’s virtual reality, forged in old Cathay.

You can simulate the place where they’re all going anyway.

This song does not promote the use of forks

or any utensil for the purpose not intended.

Please don’t sue me. I’m already poor.

(Now, everybody!)

Raise your fork! Gently near your face.

Place the dorks! In a con-fine-ed space.

They’re the pits! And their tenure is a blur.

But lower it! When you see Katy Tur.

Raise your forks! Against the criminal execs.

Place them in! The brig below the deck.

Whether you reside in the country or the city.

Keep in mind that they’re all forked, so you should show no pity.

* (I discovered later that I was wrong about this.)