television sets 

to feed them 
my brother crumples 
the old red chalky bricks
in the yard.
he tends the snails
that scale his arms.
he talks to them softly
as they move their thin
antennae like soft little 
television sets.
the snails channel 
a radio broadcast
from at least thirty years ago
& the announcer is saying
something about 
the price of milk going up 
& my brother
thinks "who buys milk?"
& a half gallon of milk
materializes on the fridge door again.
my brother's snails are
garlic snails so they have
hard amber shells 
& they also enjoy 
garlic bread.
the snails have never actually
had garlic bread but they 
love the concept. 
the snails tell my brother 
to order them take out 
but my brother 
is too young to call for
pizza all by himself. 
next time i see my brother
i will have to tell him
that i also have snails
& that i have found it is best not
to feed them. once you
feed an animal like that
all they'll do is want more
& their broadcasts will
get so loud you can't hear
yourself think. my brother
is putting a finger to where
he guesses the mouth of the snail
might be & he's saying
shush there's nothing
more to say. 
the news gets louder
in the face of snail &
the snail shrinks away 
leaving just the shell
which looks like a single
hear phone. he's scared
but he knows he has 
to put the shell
in his ear. the snails
that bother me aren't
garlic snails-- they're cove snail
with a shell that's a spiraling
yellow. the spiral means that
the snail's soul
is falling somewhere 
deeper than here. 
i do try to tell
the snail i hope they 
climb out someday 
but snails tend to talk
over you with their 
swirling. my brother 
pluck the snails 
off his arms & sticks 
them to the walls of his
closet where he won't tell
anyone else they live.
they're a troubling bunch.
he avoids his room.
he avoids his clothes.
he hears their muttering
behind the closet door 
& wonders they the snails
come for him. they make
a low buzzing at night 
that actually does help
him sleep. it helps me sleep too.
the whole idea of sleep
was invented by snails 
who were tired to having
to talk to humans at night.
there is something loving
about them though 
i'm not sure what yet.
snails circle the rims
of all my bowls.
snails circle the faces 
of all my clocks 
snails tell me to 
buy televisions 
& radios & line them
all up along the wall
in perfect rows.
turn them all on at once
& let them talk. 
i won't feed them though.
i don't put up with that.
the phone is ringing 
& asking me if i would
like to order a pizza 
& some garlic bread.
i tell them no &
i hang up the phone
but before i can i realize
it's not a phone 
it's a crumbling 
brick. the snails swarm &
ask to be fed.