I Would Make the Worst Cable News Anchorwoman Ever.

I’d laugh, cry, splutter with confusion or outrage.

I’d probably say “Duh” a lot,

grow pale, flush, and wink at the viewers.

I’d furrow my eyebrows, raise one or both,

and my eyes would narrow, widen, round, crinkle, and tear.

You’d see shoulder shrugging, hand waving,

finger pointing, fist clenching,

slapping of palms on the news desk

and smirking, smiling, quivering, tightening, frowning lips.

And I would certainly, certainly, fail to keep my tone of voice

well-modulated, and sounding sincere.

Yes, I’d scoff, shriek, whimper, and roar.

I might play with my hair as I listened to immortal talking points.  

As I grew evermore weary, my outfits would get sloppy, my fingernails dirty, 
make-up messed and I might start throwing darts at images 
of the crooks, schmucks, and bastards running the show.

The teleprompter and I would diverge:

given words about the deficit, I’d shout “Puerto Rico!”

given blab about Reps and Dems, I’d shout, “California’s burning!”

So, what I’m trying to say is that when the non-astounding

breaking news was that a honcho somewhere exploited someone,

or a cop got off scot-free, or a maniac used his ever-more-lethal guns,

or the President lied,

I’d have to let you know how I felt.

I would be the worst cable news anchorwoman ever. Yep.

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