If we met , I reckon I’d be
the one to be frightened ,
seeing in you
what civilisation has failed to destroy
in me .

I’d rush back to my libraries ,
my knives and forks ,
my barbers and musicians ,
leaving you twirling your club
and stupidly looking for
the spoor of the future
you think has escaped you .

Neanderthal man .

The closest I can find of a prehistoric theme in MacCaig . Assynt has a few mainly destroyed chambered cairns but little else megalithic . His other haunt , Edinburgh had a few other distractions for the poet .