Advice for Prospective Troglodytes

Living under a rock, you learn to listen.
It’s not all thuds & rustles & the odd shriek.
Things grind, other things grow,
& the difference can be subtler than you imagine.
A slow wheel can sound a lot like a snake.
You learn to tell a clock from a bomb,
if only for analog.

Living under a rock, you won’t have heard
anything from the digital revolution.
But voices sound so much better
for traveling down through the body
& coming out the delicate bones in the feet.
Words sound like the thoughts that bore them,
grave & resonant.

Living under a rock, the news may seem
one-sided, with an over-emphasis on body counts,
but the ground can only catch whatever falls.
You hear little from the affairs of distant stars,
& from the wind’s public whipping of the trees,
you pick up nothing but the applause.

But at least with the proper sort of rock,
rolling will never be an issue.
The neighbors won’t complain.
Moss gathers
like a second, softer head.

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