When hope is more like hunger pangs

Perhaps there is no start to this conversation. Roll the dial across every frequency from right to left and back again. The hiss and buzz of amplitude modulation with occasional focus on something intelligible. Four bars from an old song. The answer to an unknown question . An opinion offered to a midnight audience of five. Phonemes scattered on the speaker dancing secret messages into the passenger seat.

If, perhaps, there were more to say tonight, I would find myself curled around the steering wheel, resting on your wrist. And all the other secret places you never thought to lie about.

3 thoughts on “When hope is more like hunger pangs

  1. This one stole my breath for many reasons. I could read it and feel inside of it, and that space feels really raw sometimes.


    This one speaks volumes, volumes as in “complete edition of Encyclopedia Britannica”. How’d you fit so much in two paragraphs? A brilliant knack, that.

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