i go outside

at night, i put my ear
to the ground and listen.
i think that what i'm
doing may be symbolic
of finding my way, or
by discovering who has
come before me, and left.
but no such thing occurs.
the ground is cold
against my ear, the dirt
is soft and wet, as
is the grass and i can
feel the tiny infinite army
of unseen bugs trying to
get in. there are some
things best not knowing.
so i go inside and find
the red wine to help
with that new knowledge.