loud polka music on the radio

Is a god above?

Does it matter? Fresh blossoms

on my crepe myrtle.

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One of the guards, called caretakers here, enjoys light torture, so at night he plays loud polka music on the radio. Indeed, it does torture some the prisoners, called patients here, but not me, I love it. It takes me back to the polka radio stations I heard in Baltimore in my youth. And a…