The night is still young,
but already the neighbors are
playing God knows what
music, and I wonder if the bugs
that sing think the same
thoughts I do about that
driving bass or if it reminds
them of the steady pulse
of blood across their wings,
though maybe not, maybe most
bugs, the singers at least,
are treble fans, and I’d wager
a cicada is fond of a high
note on a synthesizer,
