transistor radio

late at night,
with the world asleep,
even your brother in the bunk
below you, your sisters
in another room,
your mother and father
on an island of their own,
you hold the radio
in your hand, pressing
the bee hived speaker
to your ear, searching
for strange and exotic
stations far away.
you listen for a lone voice
on the plains
of Kansas, or texas, tangier,
the garbled static of music
you've never heard before.
all of it fades in and out,
as you spin the dial softly
like a safe cracker
under the tented sheets
of your bed, lulling
you to sleep
with possibility.