teletubbies
in the style of thomas pynchon
**Lullabies in Teletubbyland**
In the soft, rippling embrace of green hills,
where the sun smiles like some over-caffeinated deity,
those brightly hued enacters of innocence—
Tinky Winky, Dipsy, Laa-Laa, Po—
frolic as pixels twist into shadow,
twisted giggles echoed by a silver-harp serenade,
but wait—who breathes under that smiling sun?
Are they but puppets on strings pulled by cosmic hands,
or whispers from the Heaviside Layer,
the unintended harbingers of our dreamscapes?
And who, I ask, is that distant, watchful voice,
rendered in the ghostly light of a flickering screen?