Place There Is None; We Go Backward and Forward, and There Is No Place

At all. The world falls
Through experience
Like a dream lightly
Touched and lost for good,
Like experience.

I wish I were I.
I, the best of me.
I, confidently
Convinced I am not
I nor me. The world

Is a fictional
Masterpiece. The ant
My daughter gave me,
Determined that I
Should not throw away

The weird miracle
Of a clone alone
In the world, alone
When not in contact
With the colony,

That ant dismembers
Me and my ideas
Of delicacy,
Which once were alive
With a lunacy.