Returning from fighting <br />the West End Fire, <br />I walked in to find <br />My daughter and my husband <br />Arguing over who should be able to watch what. <br />Without a word, I yanked the chord <br />And dispatched the television out the front door. <br />It was mine from when I was single, <br />So I felt no guilt in launching it to eternity <br />It landed like a popping metal bowl of silverware and sand <br />This did not set a good example <br />for my daughter in terms of argument resolution. <br />But the final death sighs were extremely pleasing to me. <br />And now there is no misconception about how I feel<br /><br />Lori Messenger<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/coming-home-3/
