Hot summer nights
in the thick close air
on the front porch
Dad listening to
the Tiger Game
after a full day
on the railroad job
his Tareyton glowing
in the dark
orange & off
like a firefly
flirting with Ernie Harwell
as he ran down
the play by play
Sometimes
he’d let me
take it upstairs
to my bedside
& huddle by
the green glow
my head pulsing
all night as
the world split open
like the birthing place
of a woman
& I was born again
in the dark
to the beat
to the miracles
they never sang about in church
or talked about downstairs
& nobody knew
that little boy
burst open
on those nights
& was made new
by heavy music
with skin
& blood
& wild desire
that played my body
& sent a night train
choogaloogin
down my spine
& Momma
once I caught it
I never got off
—Patrick O’Leary
Love this. Radio magic takes me back.
Me, too. Sadly that era is gone.