Satellite Clutter

When there’s not enough
To fear, there’s you
Exposing a comic face
In a rerun on basic cable -
Its script long-since been ignored and
Set aside without revision
To assure its weekly time-slot.

Someone in the live audience
Hollers fire and hundreds
Scatter like ants from a molehill
That’s been lit with a branding iron.

Canned laughter kills the gunshot
Ringing simultaneously.
Cue the Tri-dent commercial.
A buxom, adolescent girl scrubs her
Teeth and flashes a bleach-ridden
Smile at the camera.

Say "cheese."