I'm having trouble with words today,
language a series of one night stands
with nothing to commit to.
The radio means nothing anymore:
there is no place.
It chirps oblivious and shrill,
projecting nothing from nowhere.
I want gifts.
The radio has no gifts for me.
The heads on TV are surrounded with flashing words,
words that have become fickle and whorish,
words that have lost meaning,
like baseball when the snow flies -
displaced, shot through with chattering promiscuity.
Meaning dies a slow death
a cancer patient having each cell in his body replaced,
one by one,
A death so slow it's mistaken for immortality.