On the Radio
A poem.
On the Radio What's left to the imagination is everything,
so I like to turn it up in the car. I like to sing
along with no one: imagine myself where the
streets have foreign names.
Related stories
Subscribe Today to the Monitor
Maybe a boy and his girl on their motorbike,
winding through cobblestone streets to buy
ice cream or coffee or bread – food then the
pair will ride home.
– Peter Joseph Gloviczki




These comments are not screened before publication. Constructive debate about the above story is welcome, but personal attacks are not. Please do not post comments that are commercial in nature or that violate any copyright[s]. Comments that we regard as obscene, defamatory, or intended to incite violence will be removed. If you find a comment offensive, you may flag it.