The rolls of carpet come out in all colors:
Apparently unsalable, they lean
Against the Sunnydale Tool
And Magic Shop - then up
In smoke they go: show the whole block on fire,
Then cut to Faith, who's smiling. She's to blame.
And here come the credits. Later the star of the show
Could arrive, see vamps, warn all, stand out,
Snap a fence post in half, and start
To fence with it. O foleys, do your work:
We want to be half-fooled. That good can win
And isn't always ugly, that sleek fish
Were athletes once, werewolves are guys in bands
And souls round, luminous, fragile and regained
Has to be true for these dusty particulars
To be like somewhere we would choose to live:
Otherwise the closed shop is, simply, closed
For good and business reasons, morning made
Of risible schedules, baby-sitting and cash,
The script not censored or altered after all
But the work of a number 2 pencil moving along
With several thousand others in their wooden
Tiers on Saturday, blackening
Old questions that arrange us for our roles
In plots no TV shows, on the narrow channels
Nobody would choose, if she thought she could have a choice.
posted by SlayerQueen
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