Here the sky flattens into a farther blue, stretching west as we steer our way
“Toward home, is it?” I suppose it will be, some day,
But for now we talk of older hours
Of times we don’t remember, of what is still missing,
The things we lived by:
It’s the chance of anger, so you lift the sword
That furrows time, opening the youngest wounds,
Your memories run backward
As we hurry into the future.
There the ground rises into jagged edges, breaking up a closer sky
“Been there, done that,” I hear you say,
But you’re still facing west and I can forget
The days that never were, minutes spent alone with you,
The hours we gladly wasted:
Now you’re in the moment, so you raise the spurs
That spike old flanks, making for new madness,
My memories disappear
As we re-enter the past.
Hmm. My memories appear went I enter the past. Or, am I delusional?