We both exist, as far as I'm concerned,
As we were, as we remain in my head.
But I know that neither one of us is
What either one of us was when I read
The same famous rhyming verse naming things
In a room where a rabbit went to bed
Over and over again, every night
One summer in a cabin in the woods
On the edge of a cliff while the rains fell
And your mother drove out into the mists
In search of twilight shadows for photos.
Whatever we are now is what we were
And not what we were. Therefore what we were
Isn't, any longer, and what isn't never was.
Like so many charmed parental readers
I was seduced by that nobody page.