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.