the cyclops dies having never heard you recite the last two letters of the alphabet.  it’s 1983 and you’re all of seven.  hearing beautifully gets you slapped for hearing things.  you kick your frog legs on a swing going nowhere and try to touch your mind with your forehead.  from a stolen bicycle you quote future passages written by a lover half your age.  your pity has the lifespan of a voodoo doll.  sound is the word of man god disobeys.