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Hey, Mr. Deejay

by Steve Murphy 2 months ago in social commentary
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a poem

It’s a long road

cradle to grave

a faded photo, black & white,

a baby boy, no older than one

ecstatic before the magic box

smiling so big, soaking up those

heavenly sounds, eyes a’

sparkle, blissful innocence.

a second black & white a

publicity shot from the glory days

when the boy became the Man

spinning the wax, filling the airwaves

with rock and roll, living the

dream in the golden age of FM

but the road is long

with unexpected twists and turns and

all across the nation

deejays have lost their radio stations.

Where’s a boy to find comfort if

not in his box of black & white memory?

Steven A. Murphy September 30, 2022

social commentary

About the author

Steve Murphy

He/Him. A writer & actor living in the Arizona desert. Born in Idaho, have also lived in California, Maui, & Seattle. Married to a creative art quilter and blessed with the company of two Airedale Terriers.

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