my heart has four chambers -
one of them is probably a radio station.

love songs don't come as easily
as anthem rock and afternoon blues,
but transatlantic static never stopped my poetry.

humans aren't quite made for long drives, we like
pit stops and motels clean as they come,
and switching in between stations
but once in a while we like to make road trips
to that place where the crickets can sing.

and in these moments I remember
that screaming at satellites
only brings me back to echoes -

you are
the white noise in my life,
quiet and constant,
filling in my empty spaces.