It used to be—
only the future
sounded like "perhaps."
...
Now, so does the past.
...
If I could just sleep,
time's trickle might
come and wash that stain away,
like meltwater filtering
through cold rocks and seeping
into dark
caves carved with underground streams.
...
Not that anything that's true,
about you
even if undiscovered, could ever
go missing.
...
But even as we speak, surely
silver rivulets
are joining veiny rivers,
and all are plunging toward the boundless ocean.
...
Not so fast. No ocean
is really so vast.
...
True, but at least I bet there's
real peace
and quiet at the bottom.
