the paint spattered radio

there comes a point
when you are saturated
with music, mostly
old stuff that you
can sing to at the mere
sound of a note or
two. the radio stations
can't help themselves
but to repeat and repeat
the same songs over
and over, decade
after decade as if
nothing new has been
created. beatles, the
four tops, elvis
and elton, but the needle
hits full in your
ears and you turn
the dial to talk stations,
which doesn't last long,
then to the spiritual
ones that make you feel
guilty about something,
and this finally leads
to silence, where you
pull the plug, or click
it off, but then you
begin to whistle a song
you know, one that is
imbedded within your
brain. an oldie. you
have become the radio.
the radio is you.