On the bare wireless of the night
The big band fades away with the day,
glissando on the radio dialled to a static tear
dried on the sip of a tea cup held aloft,
grasped deep in thought of the dance era;
and although I was never there,
I am transported there now.
How strange is that?
The voices ride trenchant on the
music that flows over me along the
airwaves, to swirl around the loneliness
grit on this dark night of the soul. If soul
be permitted, to be the burning in my eyes
squinting for bed, longing to sleep in
the silence of a memory that never was.