Every Tuesday and Thursday on my way to and from therapy
I drive past the old TV
It sits atop an old, Sears Kenmore dryer on the other side of a barbed wire fence

The TV is exposed to the elements
There is no one to protect it
from the harshness of reality

The TV listens to everything around it
and is continually forced to hear the last words
of the soon-to-be murdered bovine in the nearby feed lot

Each time I pass, my gaze turns toward the TV
It’s cracked, black screen is a soothing comfort to me
I hope it is doing well, even though its fractured face will never be repaired

I smile at the TV
wish it a good day

The TV has been left out in the world to fend for itself
Rain, hail, wind – it weathers everything the world has thrown at it
Suffering in silence as endless voices pass it by

No one stops to see if the TV is okay
It’s been there for a long time
waiting in the lonely sunlight to be smiled upon

Ask the people, they know it exists
they think nothing of it
disregarding the TV the moment they see it

I drove by my inanimate friend today on my usual route
the TV was gone and I was sad
I could not smile at it or wish it a good day

On my return trip, I stopped to see what happened
The TV was sitting behind the green dryer
its screen, melted and broken into large pieces

I wondered how many people passed by and never noticed
a familiar sight, now gone
will anyone really be concerned

I tapped the TV lightly on its top
a spot where it was probably pounded on many times before
I told it I hoped it would be okay

I drove my car west as I continued my journey home
and I wondered what will become of the TV
I will look for it on Thursday, smile, wave, and hope it has a good day