if you were on the tv
you'd be the blonde in the bad b movie
the one inching backwards
tipped-off by the creek in the floorboard
sounded from the other side of the door
the murmur of the villain's heavy foot
that would be me, the villain
the one with the heavy foot
you'd be the blonde inching backwards
the guy who scored the music for our bad b film
he'd put a crescendo in this scene, right about now
the bowing of strings so furiously taut
it'd cause the hairs on the backs
of the necks
of the audience, to jumping jack
thighs would be clutched and hands would be held
you'd be the blonde inching backwards
i'd be the clamor of foot to floor
come out come out wherever you are
you'd be that stupid blonde inching backwards
the one who reaches for the conveniently-placed
knife, atop a dresser
you'd be the boob jobbed blonde running out of inches
i'd be the slow turn of the door knob
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