Out Riding

I am scrolling backwards into the ancestors

Young'uns scrambling everywhere. I just move on back.

I will name things by their names unless they escape me.

I am scrolling backwards into my own family tree.

I sit down hard on a train moving confusing directions.

Young'uns scrambling everywhere. I just move on back.

The fences echo the metal benches, the city slides backwards,

I am aging forwards into my own strong ancestors.

The small-bearded boy tells the blue-haired girl, you are so pretty

Scrambled young'uns, their city streams forward. I just move on back.

The boy leans over to listen to the girl and we pick up speed.

I am falling over backwards into my history.

The train rides low. It eats the streets, me with my memory hanging on.

Young'uns scrambling everywhere. They should be the ones to move back.

There is always a girl, always a boy, isn't there? Isn't there?

I am scrolling backwards into my crowded ancestors.

I outride the girl, the boy. They live here. I am just passing through.

Young'uns scrambling everywhere. I move on back.