Saturday Mornings

You turn me on

only when it’s convenient

for you.

Desperately dashing against the clock to ensure you are always amused

and exhilarated

by me.

so that maybe you’ll stay,

maybe you’ll care,

maybe you’ll come back.

Nothing seems to be working and I am now

abruptly left in the dark, cartooned, trapped,

until the next time you feel spiritless and

want to see the cat chasing the mouse.