Harrow Wood Poem by JOE POEWHIT

The stage is all bare.
Many fans gaping to stare.
On with the channel - T.V. friends.
Here they come - time to spend.
Some with a wacky - exotic music show.
Others plain - sleep time - bore - and hello.
I sometimes play there image pars.
Kids on streets - others in marts.
Copycat wonder - in terror full life.
Like robotic clones becoming ripe.
All in cars upon the roads.
Eat this food - good and slow.
Must do this - that - tip your hat.
Napkin in lap - without staring back.
Only coffee after dinner - yes cream.
Suit, shirt, tie - neat and proper clean.
The style for the very rich.
Copycat wonder - the mad new pitch.
Brokers and sellers on line at banks.
Milked like sheep - no sleep last night.