I should have been a caveman

i should have been a cave man picking ticks out of my brother’s hair

sharpening a stick with a broken piece of flint

instead i am a stranger

wondering, 

how do i make this hotel room television work?

how do i make it speak

not to me, but to itself

so i can watch, not like a tiger from the bush

but like a dental technician behind an x-ray

making the clock spin its arms like a whirligig

or a paddling duck in an old cartoon

this dental technician listening to soft rock radio to make the arms spin faster

so she can get home to her television,

and with her microwaved dinner,

meld to the couch and watch the strangers talking

not to her, but to each other

and eating her Hungry Man from its plastic tray

she may feel un-alone

i should have been a caveman

staring at a fire

sucking marrow from a bone

watching the sunset like blood spilling into egg yolk

while I die on a hill, my head caved in by a rock

i should have been

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