Are We Still Living In The Past? Poem by RIC BASTASA

there was that time
when we talk, and i talk a lot
and i sense this fact that i am floating
like a raft the way the conversation goes like
a wide river and it has a force, a flow, and i do not notice that
i have no control anymore, got no paddle or stick, and my words have become the wind from the east, moving towards a narrow way into the darkness, and on the raft there is no one there, not even you, and i hear the laughter of no one, as it was still i talking to no one but you who is not there too...and now i think about it, and i ask the same question: are we still living in the past?

we are inside this room with yellow green curtains and glass windows outside the rains are pouring heavily yet we hear nothing at all.