This Is How I Drive Alone
I've been traveling a lot, lately. I've been driving down interstates and highways and Main Streets and 3rd Streets. I've been driving and listening to the ghosts that whisper on radio frequencies that are not supposed to be in use. Usually these ghosts are just bleeding over from other (bigger) stations- they try to sell me books on tape, or hair care products. They talk about sports, cars, men, women, children, love, hate, conspiracy theories, plants, birds, and then love some more. The ghost that I listened to the most this time was a new radio ghost, a voice I couldn't place as anything or anyone that I had ever heard before. Driving down one of those tedious stretches of highway, the sports, cars, men, women, love, hate, plants- they all faded away. In their place, though, was a ghost that just sobbed and cried and gasped and bawled. Sometimes I sobbed with it; most of the time, I just listened.