This television, almost new and made
by those who ought to best know how it’s done,
should not have gone to green, to strobe, to fade,
to turn its picture off when it’s begun.

I watched it when it first became chartreuse.
I tried with off and on and tilt and rest
to comprehend its problem or excuse,
and get it fixed. But I was not impressed
the day I stopped in where I bought the set
and watched the man not hear my clear report,
or when my brother said, “Uh oh. Forget
the green, unplug the thing. You have a short.”

They neither understood I watched it glow,
and now the set has fixed itself, I know.