On the Air.


Would you build a radio for me?
Sticks and copper wires;
a tin foil pole. From you, dear,
this is all I ask.

I am awake with broadcasts
trying to speak but stuttering;
awash with a sea of static
a spastic buzzing,
low frequency drones
the hiss of electrical discharge.

Wrap your heart in aluminum foil
until you hear these words
as music; move your arms, if it will
increase the chance of reception.
Strain to listen to the broadcasts
behind these clumsy words
which make up so much noise.

For I am making songs for you
inside myself, and I am whispering
despite the fading christian hymns
and news reports from stockholm;
I whisper: "I love you, I love you,
I love you"; drowned out
by broken pop songs; "I love you,
I love you, I love you."

La la la, la la la dee dee.

These are the nature of the waves
I send; invisible, invisible, invisible:
Would you build a radio for me?
Sticks and copper wires;
a tin foil pole. From you, dear,
this is all I ask.


-e.
























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