Nathan Hoks
R a d i o S t a t i o n
You have to pass the dead animal smell, and the doors
get stuck, so push. We are allowed to curse, but
if one glares at any nearby object the
shadows seem to creep out the door. They call that
the oozing light. The best place to drink is at
the faucet but it is sometimes impossible to turn off
so you have to stand there and keep drinking.
The light bulbs, if we turn them on,
make rings around the microphones and you
can feel that you are speaking into some small nebula.
The glass shatters on the hour, the hour hums.
We pick the obvious things to talk about. The rabbits
in the neighbor’s farm. The watermelons, will
they be small or large. What we will call
the clusters of children popping up each spring.
They tiptoe and think it’s funny. They poke at each
other’s eyes. They throw sand at the treetops.
They don’t care about eyesight. They hide water
in their cheeks. They gurgle for days. They choke
on sentences. Their muscles get tangled up.
Their hair gets tangled up. Their arms are uncontrollable.
They are not aloud to touch the knobs.
The knobs are of a pigment that comes off
in the hands but we have soap near by
and it only takes a minute to rub off. All the callers
must say the call number. That’s the rule. People sometimes
run by the window as if trying to distract us and
make us laugh. But we are well trained.
We can look at them and show no sign of recognition.
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