Paul Mendoza

Far Away From The Radio Kingdom

I am not a phantom,
yet I fly above the calm land every night
to search for a small transistor radio I can call my bed,
but my presence is seen by a child; uncovered by a light green
glow I emit; I am happiness
to a mindless young prince who lies awake at midnight.
The music that sifts through the tiny radio
is merely funny to me; likewise, my glow
amuses the immature brat who owns the radio,
which I am forced to turn into a magic transistor
for the pleasure of my magic music.
I am happy when the young prince sings to me
that he must sleep, but he hopes to see me again.
Tomorrow night, I’ll leave my newfound home
which lies between the roads of Mount Vernon and Fairway,
and I’ll fly towards the Dutch town of Laren,
so I can lay a curse upon Brian Wilson, my master,
who lies in bed and surrounds himself in smoke,
so that good vibrations may leave his soul forever.