Dance Of The Test Pattern

The hours of sitting and staring grew late,
My butt sunk in under its own weight;
My eyes and clicking thumb grew tired.
I began to dream amid the world wired.

Just then the TV seemed to wink--
I looked up, stared, and blinked:
There was no show, no talking head,
Just vertical bars blue, green, and red...

There was silence, perhaps a beep;
I thought I might have fallen asleep.
But then the bars, static and still,
Began to move by their own will.

Red twisted, Green turned,
Yellow wiggled, Blue squirmed,
Orange and Violet twirled.
The colors lit a tangoing lattern
In the Dance of The Test Pattern!

There was no noise, only colors flashing
In a harried, furious mish-mashing.
Here they’d blend, there’d they sharpen,
One would lighten, another'd darken.

And suddenly Red stretched out a hand,
And as she fluttered to a silent band,
She slowly took my arm in hers
And I was sucked into lambada blurs.

It was a mad mad ball of furious pacing
The lack of doors meant no escaping
But why would I, among gowns of hue
And suits of contrast to match them, too?

Red boogied down, Green went old skool,
Yellow got jiggy, Blue just played it cool,
Orange and Violet broke every high-school dance rule.
The whirling colors put to shame the rings of Saturn,
In the Dance of The Test Pattern!

And as Red drew me into her feathers,
And spun me faster than the worst of weathers,
And showed me why Red is the Color of Luv,
I thought, “Time to get off the crack, guv!”







Copyright 2001 The Fine Line Online. See our disclaimer.