The Sake of Human Progress

Wolfhounds in the suburbs howl at a styrofoam moon.

Their master stays up late selling coins from a satellite dish.

Children wage wars with artificial monsters. In the cul-de-sac, 

they do not think of chalkboards or crop-circle myths.

Encyclopedic constellations hijack the insomniac's mind. She counts 

glow-in-the-dark stars and plays poker with strangers to pass the time. 

Scientists say that today’s futile noise is a part of human progress. On Mars,

you will not need ears. For there will be no listening at all, especially to this.