What I love most about the past
is its naivete about its future.

What if every human thing were designed
to maintain a record of those who used it?

Another way to read a poem
is for what it doesn't say.

I dream of the private library
which opens onto the secret garden.

The doors are hard to open and
the windows are hard to close.

I wonder more and more
about all the etceteras.

All these words to document the dream.
And it's gone.