It wasn’t that the people I met in my brief visit to Radio Mountain were
Uninterested in sex; they seemed to consider it more of a distraction –
Something unnecessarily complicated, like stereophonic sound.
Full of joy, they showed me the radio console they had built themselves:
Monaural, with built in limiting and several sides so that colleagues
Could sit down together and broadcast programs at the same time.
We took a run through the heavenly fields outside the studio, with the dogs.
My arthritis vanished, and the dogs enjoyed the run as much as I did.
Reversing direction suddenly one of them, a large furry bowling ball,
Came in collision with me and we all ended up in a laughing heap.
Over there the transmitting towers pointed, not skywards
Because we were already there, but everywhere, exciting the ether
With celestial bop. So fast. Can you imagine dancing to that?
There is sadness aplenty there too, remembering friends lost.
I actually cried when I saw snow, not knowing it snows
In every month there, a little bit, not like the tragic winter
That sometimes occurs in other parts of New England.
But, being near Connecticut, Heaven could hardly be without snow.
The road to it is easy, about nineteen miles west by south of Hartford.
There is a brook called Sodom near a medical center off I-691.
Take the first exit and follow the brook north to Rte. 71.
Go right, and you will soon see the entrance to Hubbard Park and the Peaks.