Balloon-pants Billy's had his eyes closed
for 87 years and hasn't looked back since.
Fist-hipped with roof-top lips,
he's convinced radio signals are female
and wonders how they'd feel
if he could hold them in his hands.
He imagines their oscillating electromagnetic fields
passing through the air across his face,
into the vacuum of space behind his retinas.
Naming the curves of their wavelength bodies
as they swim through the sky he built for them,
their transience becomes more than momentary.
Tap-tapping the frequencies of their voices
onto the receiver-drums of his ears,
he tunes the hollows of his cochlea
to the rhythmic signals of their pelvic bones.
Billy's historical grin remembers the radiancy of radio
and the weight of the fading air in his hands
holds a timeless appreciation for women
who leave things to the imagination.