OCT. 20,1998
At some point in the future,
There will be nostalgia for approximation,
For a degree of imprecision, a little crevice, a crack,
Where one could fall in for a moment, and nap,
Where the omnipresent searchlight of accuracy
Would not find him.
In this recess will reside,
All the earthly mistakes, all the misfits,
Hunchback, cripples, all the challenged.
How many errors have been swept,
through the ages, under the carpets,
hidden in closets, buried in paperwork?
How many will not see the light of day?
How many would not pass
The judgement of Inquisitor’s eye?
At some point in the future,
When every fish is counted, every leaf turned,
Every global inch digitally exposed,
Nostalgia will be deemed inadequate.