Somebody Leave the Light On

   Awoken sometime near dawn, the radio buzzed chilled piano through the room moving hands to tin foil antennas shifting balancing the signal after hours of calls to the station for higher amplitude across the plains of kansas while heads lift from small burrowed holes, even the hands which stretch the foil higher and yet higher still in mounting window light never seen by the multitude of bobbing furry heads pulling the ground back over the lip of the entrance shaking for frost crisp grey grass the plains of kansas sail beneath the waves' penetration frequently modulating still too lowly amplified for signal noise ratios the broken frost and dawn sublimating slowly, arthritically, a still number of the mass looking left and right for the red antenna's shivering tower of bright blinking lights to reflect on the tin foil hand coursing through the cool air east and west in an arc pointing to tumbled cotton and polyester blend, machine-wash-only so never washed, cigarette holes and ash stained quake tasting cool piano hiding somewhere in the aether....