Hard Night

Hard day coming on.
Too much time last night
counting stars on my eyelids,
afraid to open my eyes
and admit I can't sleep because of you.
Thinking of the poor
proto-human who laid
in the grass under real stars
feeling the cold stone
grow in his chest for the blue eyed female
he would never see again.
The first human heartbreak,
before the benefit of science to explain
the cardiovascular system.
His large human brain knows
where it hurts, and why.
Two thousand generations later
I am no better than
my flint chipping cousin
who woke one day
to discover mating season
is now all year long and
the scent in the air
is now in his large human brain
and knows a life spent in pursuit of
food and a place to sleep,
was empty without something
warm to sleep with.
So, cousin and I both wake at dawn,
he with spear and pouch,
I with cell phone and wallet.
He stands on the river bank
looking at foot prints left
by the blue eyed girl.
I thumb the phone book,
trying to remember where you work.
The hunters move out,
tracking the tender prey
that makes all else we catch
worth having.