First Words

My little brother cried, “Boo jay!”
as the winged watercolor flew past the window.

But these were not the first words,
for, approximately thirty-three years prior,
my father, then an infant, through the tinted glass
of the dilapidated family Ford,
spotted a bus with his oversized eyes
and bumbled “Saa bus, saa bus!”

These were not the first words, either, however,
for his father had spoken before him, and his father before him,

and suddenly the Ford is in reverse,
speeding back through history
to that historic fur-draped first forebear of ours
who grunted a disgruntled grunt
which translates to “Me hungry!”

But then again, who is to say
that the ape to the left of him on the evolutionary chart
didn’t deserve the honor
for his vocal, though not quite verbal utterings?

Backing up even more, maybe it was the first land-dweller.
He was, after all, the first to speak through air—
it was so much clearer than his previous gurgly aquatic chats.

And we drive back further still
to that immortalized paramecium, whose wiry flagellum
first made a microscopic ripple in the primordial soup.

Then the Ford breaks down, as it often does,
but we still listen in the rearview mirror
to the voices which preceded mortality;
the songs of blacknesses
and the luminous speech of silver angels
praising…what?…something
just out of earshot.