Gugliemo Marconi: April 25, 1874 - July 20, 1937

I've lost my mp3 player
This misplacement and misfortune is forcing me to listen to the radio while I drive
But before you call me petter, let me present my case
I live in a sort of Bermuda Triangle of radio stations
Lost in a sea of country!
And gospel!
And- Satan forbid it-
Country gospel!
With only the merest shadow of a rock song
Sometimes unbelievably close,
Sometimes impossibly far.

There.
Now you can call me petty

But sometimes I get lucky
Like the other day for example,
The first day of my last year and the very beginning of my end
And I, for one, am thrilled to start dying

The radio was excited, too
It started right up with a ukulele solo,
Void of all disturbance of distortion,
Serenading me sweetly as I drove
And I did not just drive,
But I drove away.
Away from the government mandated learning camp,
Away from the "man" and his "rules"
Like some penny drama action novel
Filled with fight scenes,
And one liners,
And characters with the kind of names that if you really named your child that,
Social services would probably take said child away from you
The best kind of names

But I messed up.
I did what no action hero should ever do:
I looked back
And watched the building fade,
Then disappear with a snide reminder that this is the first day of my last year
The beginning of my end

And right about there,
The radio cut to static.