I've studied old things
so much of the past I
know nothing of the present.
If your body was a ruin
I'd know every part of it.
Instead, with the modern
art in your chest hair
I've got new things to learn.
Ancient humans, their songs,
their buildings, their art I've
seen everything that's left.
But, you are something,
another way to erase addictions,
a thunder storm freeing ions.
Something quantum in your gaze
says I do not know where we
are headed, and history may
not repeat like a book written.
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