My bed is in the corner of my room between somewhere to be and nowhere to go, a Pangea of covers & sheets & pillows where dreams & non-dreams talk in my head past midnight: sometimes I hear them, sometimes I don't. When I do hear, they sound like dinosaurs although I don't really know what dinosaurs sound like. I imagine they sound like elephants and childhood. As better ancestors than neighbors, they let us look at their fossils and discover how far we have come. Perhaps, a million years from now, they can pick up my bones & show others how far they've come. In their other-people beds, I hope their dreams & non-dreams talk about me and my fossils, maybe twirl one of my ribs and say this kind of animal was a man.