I empty myself of the names of others. I empty my pockets.
I empty my shoes and leave them beside the road.
At night I turn back the clocks;
I open the family album and look at myself as a boy.
What good does it do? The hours have done their job.
I say my own name. I say goodbye.
The words follow each other downwind.
I love my wife but send her away.
Is it a good thing to reminisce on our past? There is no possible way we can take the hours back or change them for our personal liking so why should take the time away from our present to look back on the past. 

The Remains