There, There - Radiohead
The Radio Animals - Matthea Harvey
The radio animals travel in lavender clouds.
They are always chattering, they are always cold.
Look directly at the buzzing blur and you'll
see twitter, hear flicker—that's how much they
ignore the roadblocks. They're rabid with doubt.
When a strong sunbeam hits the cloud, the
heat in their bones lends them a temporary
gravity and they sink to the ground. Their little
thudding footsteps sound like "Testing, testing,
1 2 3" from a far-away galaxy. Like pitter and its
petite echo, patter. On land, they scatter into
gutters and alleyways, pressing their noses into
open Coke cans, transmitting their secrets to
the silver circle at the bottom of the can. Of
course we've wired their confessionals and
hired a translator. We know that when they call
us Walkie Talkies they mean it scornfully, that
they disdain our in and outboxes, our tests of
true or false.