black and white

the old tv was
in the corner. the one
your father
could hit with his shoe
from across the room
and adjust
the horizontal.
the crackling speakers,
the glued
wood cabinet.
the plant your mother
placed on top,
with a lace doily.
the rabbit ears,
with wads of foil at
the tips
for better reception.
all four channels
at the twist of a wrist.
black and white.
it took you places
you could never go.
it was your young world
in a box, giving hope
to a different life.