In yellowed pages of radio lore
Find such things reported before
Oft’ dismissed with laugh and spurn
A starry night would see my turn

Casting my signal to the sky.  Anyone answer - give it a try.
It won’t be N5 JR or GG, for Junior and Pete are silent key
But if they would answer should that bring surprise?  
Their signals, we know, still travel the skies
I’ll send fourth my dashes and dots to the cold-blue
For to join with those from good friends that I once knew

Hark, an encouraging word be returned!
Sent patiently slow -  clean crisp and neat
I find myself a teen again
In QSO with Pete

But oh, now a critic emerge from the mist
complaining again 'bout my sloppy fist
It’s JR back on the air I hear
Sending too fast for either my ear
It's been 40 years and six months to the day
And this is all you have to say?

For all of this an explanation?
Our dear smug JR needs affirmation
Okay, you’re still king of high speed and high power
Surprise for you - I now own your tower!

Good copy JR?  Need I send that again?
Your father said "Take it - you were his friend"  (still am)

And as for Pete, well that’s easy to see
He was just checking on me

Yes through the magic of my ham station
I've learned much of ghosts and their relative stagnation

Mr. Bill Roberts, approachable man, a great pack of young boys we were
His son ran with us, a fine fellow too, the best boy I know that I knew

So common back then, the boys of their dads, to brag and show off the mementos
Of war far away, though close it would stay, to our father’s lives every day

Mr. Bill Roberts unbuckled his belt in front of our youthful, fixed eyes
We’d all seen his metals and one stood apart, a golden and purple small heart

In tract-housing built for the men who in droves, were lucky to come back
His belt was quite skinny, just right for the times, I remember it silver and black

Now off with the trouser, the work of a Mauser, brought upon us boys quite a gasp
As promised that day, the price of the metal, was fully on display

The bullet went in, and then took a tumble, for to continue its buzz-cutting way
To lay the man flat, and he said to us, “It was then that I started to pray”

He’d seen his men fall, had no reason at all, to believe with the living he’d stay
But “Shook off the sad sap” to use his own words, his own life he would save, that day

The dutiful work of his heart
An evident and unwelcome sight
Pressing his hands to his leg with his might
His own body he would have to fight

Fight for your life young soldier, you know you want to grow older
Your girl is at home and Daddy is dead
Your Mom needs you.  Find your old bed

The din of combat subsided as familiar faces appeared
A dream commenced and Mr. Bill Roberts was home

Ones and zeros hold the key
For the eventual displacement of you and me
Must we unbind our worth perceived
From the job and identity we’ve received?
Seems so I’d say, why just this year
A driverless truck crossed the country clear
We must keep meaning, a useful place
for to preserve the human race
Or will it be synthetic ******
While good ole’ Maxo does our chores

Atonement ain’t happened if it still feels bad to think about it, man.  And it still feels bad for me all the time, no matter what the  gray beard veterans say, with their stupid caps full of pins and ******' hair growin' out of their ears, or what ******' pill they give me.  It feels so bad I ***** if I don't get my mind on to something else.  And look how skinny I am.  I'm fading away.

I don’t care what that ****** they sent us said.  Talk to my wife.  Yeah, right! He can go back to his clinic or wherever he came from and stop pretending he understands us.

You ain’t never going to shake off that memory, so stop trying - I'm thinking now.  You got to live with it.  Live with what you done.  Live with it till you die, and ****, possibly even after you die.  You got to forgive yourself to live with it now and get God to forgive you if you don’t want to carry it over.  Know what I’m tryin’ to say?  The God part is easy, Chaplain said.  My part ain't workin'.  Is yours?

That "pretending to be cool" guy was a ******' idiot.
You know who I really need to talk to?  The devil.  I'd beg Satan to give me my punishment and then set me free to live for a change.  I can't get that job done on my own.  The devil may be the only ****** that can fix me.  I don't care what he'd do.  I think the more he burned my ***, the better it would feel.  When he was done punishing me,  satisfied and smiling, I'd call it all even then, and give whatever was left of me permission to live.  Permission to look forward instead of backward all the time.

I'm supposed to tell this **** to my wife?  I'd like to see her face.  She's barely hanging on now.

In darkened space behind a sofa-set
I pause my return from the kitchen
The eyes of my family are watching TV
And for that they cannot see me

What’s on the screen is not to my taste
Too innocent and foolish – It's true.  I am quite smug!
But the laughs, the smiles, and sparkling eyes
Oh my family, on my heart you do tug

A gentle warm wash pours over my soul
An unexpected deep sweet euphoria

Just a simple reminder how blessed it can be
To be part of a family

Black binders beside the linac, hold photos of those most ill
A diagnosis and a treatment plan, the last hopes of a woman or man

I fix the monster when it  breaks, so dutifully with a tool
When I get the call "The linacs down", for that I went to school

Something else will oft present, when the beast is down
A delicate soul, silver nitrate marked, waiting patiently in her gown

So evident she is, and so sad to see.  All the women I love personified - compromised, humbled, made pitiful.

As for the binders I'll sometimes note, a new one added today
The mom or dad of a once young boy, with whom I used to play

Each will have their turn in the beam
In desperate hope to be redeemed

And who'll be next on the cancer roll-call?
******* it, ******* it, seems like us all

The Lake Pontchartrain Causeway… man that’s one long bridge
I drive it every day for my pay - here’s what I see along the way

Here comes:
Corvette Kary, setting pace, he thinks he’s in a race
When Kary’s not waxing his ride, for your safety you'd best pull aside

Petrified Patty, she’s over water and has never learned how to swim
She’s driving a white Lexus, so scared she has no reflexus

Miata Mike, chasing Kary's Vette, not gonna get too far
Trying to convince himself, he didn’t buy a girly car

Watch out for:

Makeup Mary, on cruise-control, wow she’s one of the worst
She loves her new Camry, but her next car might just be a hearse

Yes, that Causeway, can be a long and boring ride
And if you get a flat… there’s no place to pull aside
Oh but that Causeway has its points, take time to see
24 miles of entertainment, and the Northbound way is free

Here comes:

Road Rage Randy, always ****** and he doesn't know why
Today he’s running late, but finds time to escalate

Doughnut Danny, rolling breakfast and a tea
Such mechanized efficiency, has a newspaper on his knee

Wackin Wayne, you're kidding me, you thought I couldn't see?  Vibrating Virginia close behind, now we have equality

We've got:

Maypop Marty, thinks tires last forever
Does he even check the air?.... never

Mark The Spark needs a muffler shop, something heavy about to drop.  Comes Innocent Mike on his motorbike too bad he just couldn't stop.

Headphone Harry and his Pandora, he's here but also... he's not.  He likes his music best, you see, after a few long tokes of his ***.

Fugitive Fred on the go, at 65 point ooo.  Not a mile to fast or to slow, got to blend in on this bridge don't you know.

Yes that old Causeway, can be a long and boring ride
And if you get a flat… there’s no place to pull aside
Oh but that Causeway, has its points, take time to see
The mechanized circus on parade, our hilarious humanity

Don’t forget:

Frozen Frita, every rainstorm stops her dead in her track
Then here comes Ramin’ Ron, goin 60, aint too good for her back

No Tie-down Tim, **** flyin’ out of his truck
For everyone behind him, Tim doesn’t give a ****

NPR Nancy, she must be in a “Driveway Moment”
Only problem is, she’s on a god-**** bridge

Texting Theresa, I’ve saved the best for last
The last thing in life she did see, was an idiotic emoji

Lookin’ Lee, that’s me, pretty sad that I’m just as bad
Come join us nuts on the Causeway, might be the most fun you ever had