Sometimes I imagine myself
strolling through a museum
of my love life.

My soles click on the cold stone
and it reverberates
through the grand halls.

My relationships are there.
Stuffed to mimic real life,
and safely behind glass.

The idea is that I can study them.
Learn from them
in a detached kind of way.

But I never do.
I stroll, and I pause, and I admire,
but I never learn.

We're breaking ground
on a new annex
next month.