………………silver knobs ripple out, searching…slow sparkling circles, water under streetlights… Radio can’t make up its mind. …cricket nightsong rhythm…whistling in and out of focus… hear that lonesome…country station…car commercial…tires crackling hiss? Ghosts are drifting in the water in the circles in the circles in the circles in the…fuzzy fishing dial… sirens rip the ether… and I feel your voice in waves… you stitch it with a whisper… ripple… memory of a whisper… and I’m hooked… inside the water… surface tension on the water…
Finally. A song that I can sing to
………………lost again in static………………
Words and photos © Jaime Greenberg, 2022
