Brooklyn, a long time ago

Above and in between black and white blades of static,

samurai in boats discussed war and peace

inside of that crudely hung television

in the corner.

Below and within weakly stapled brown bags,

containers of kung pao chicken

and tubs of wonton soup

going cold

were being held by impatient hands.

I too, at such a young age

dangled from an angled noose

choking from the scene above the smells

mesmerized by the exotic picture

that my grandmother's rabbit ears couldn't catch.

They were supposedly built to last.