evolution

Three hundred thousand years ago the Neanderthals

talked with their eyes,

those observant little fuckers.

Three hundred thousand years later it’s

the same thing, perching lazy 

on the stoop and soaking

in the same sun that cycled then,

the same sunbathing animals.

The tree trimming guys just 

finished trimming the trees and

smacked us all in the face with

sudden silence like the end 

of a lonely generator hum

in a fluorescent-lit room. Fluorescent lights

itch like nails on a chalkboard, spiders 

crawling all up 

the spine.

Sunshine is somehow so much sweeter,

alive like you and me and the cavemen 

    and everyone in between 

and more we don’t even know about.

My brother told me bottling up emotion is like 

shaking a bottle of soda, 

the liter bottle of Coca-Cola, 

waiting for the boom cracking it open

Boom! Laughter. Juvenile hoots and hollers. 

You’re setting yourself up for the blast.