People are hardwired to forget they’ll die.
When we remember it, the day to day
Acts like a drug that tells us death’s a lie
And wipes our silly mortal fears away.
And we extend that immortality
To our surroundings—buildings, landmarks, stores—
Thinking they’ll be around eternally
Until one day we see their locked barred doors.
Places have lives like people do—they’re born,
They live, they die, and then they get erased;
And we who used to go there feel forlorn,
Forgetting that we, too, will be replaced
By strangers—none of whom will ever know
The songs we heard down at the Rodeo.
Copyright 2014 Matthew J Wells