Once I lived inside a radio. Youthful transmissions. WBZ free and clear. A.M. dial to Beatle Tunes, Stones, Norman Greenbaum Spirit in The Sky. Once I lived inside a radio. FM talk and jabber late into the night. Stories of politics and race, foreign wars. Hosts spoken to Boston boy with wild dreams of Red Sox diamonds on World Series ring. Sounds of songs, grooving riff to wished rebellion of time and place. Dial set, tuned as sixties rage. The Radio Boy, 13 year old awareness of life he lives. Plastic airwaves taken to summer joys. Friends, baseball. Then winter games on street hockey plain. Sticks like Orr. He scores on shallow net. Poses he does falsely of a time always to remain. Now disappeared are those Radio Days into a memory of space and place on Boston shore. AM gone. FM as youth is nevermore. Once I lived inside a radio. But now a radio lives inside of me.