The radio hummed then snapped

The radio hummed, then snapped,

and a voice, too bright and fast,

rolled out my name, a mangled cast.

A hard, flat sound,

a stone skipping off

a wrong pond.

It felt like hearing a bad joke

that wasn't meant for me,

a kind of small, public spree.

Then later, by the sink,

the phone warm to my ear,

your voice, familiar,

made it clear.

Said it, and it clicked into place,

a key finding its lock,

a quiet, specific grace.

Like the way a bird

knows its own bird-song.

It felt like coming home,

where I belonged.