Public radio

My affection
for public radio
borders on
fervent.
I admit
I am late
for important occasions
because I drive around
and around
harnessed
to an interview
with an author
plump with fame
and wit.
I listen
exalted
smiling recklessly
at other drivers
while my creativity
roars.
The world is good.
Works of alarming imagination
are within me.
The interview is over
and before I can find
a parking spot
a dispatch
from somewhere in Africa
I will never go.
My heart shudders
and I ache
in that way that feels
right
when all you can do
is honour suffering
with tears.
I drive around
some more
immersed
transported
captured.
A king
with a full court
of sages and scribes
was never
more spoiled
than I.