It is a constant theme
that the world far outstrips me,
moving at such astonishing speed
that it leaves me thrashing
helplessly in the dust.
But every so often I collect
my breath by turning on the
old-fashioned AM radio.
Right now, the 50s comfort
of the radio broadcast of the Mets
game from Oakland, California,
puts me back in the last century
when I used to fall asleep
with the soft buzz of
the game in my ear.
Our lives were not eaten up by
the hungry demands of technology.
I am a 21st century Luddite
who would like to be left alone
with his radio, so I may once more
live in the past and not the present.
Even the commercials then were soothing.
THE POETRY OF THE GAME