Because one of the awesome people I work with on School of Jocks requested that I write a poem about him. Based on a conversation we had while on air.
(And swear, Javi, I’ll dash off a better one as soon as I get a proper idea.)
“First tip: Understand videogames,”
you tell me.
This is private conversation:
you, me, and the airwaves.
Who knows who could be listening?
If a girl, in her car,
volume turned up high,
photograph of boy in hand,
is hanging on our every word?