Before the internet:Back when we had poems and songs which were only ours.
Back when you could trout fish alone with Richard Brautigan
And consider death with Rilke
Or smoke in some alley with Paul Westerberg-
Without being overheard
Or overseen.
Back when there were private conversations-
Words meant just for you.
Back when you could even read the Bible
For yourself, and see things Luther never dreamed
Back when everything was a fresh discovery in Love
With babies heads popping out of the wet private womb
Of wonder. With only angels watching over us.