Succession

Sunsets glowing off the windows of condos As we drive into downtown My father always likes to share which buildings were right there When he was growing up Those warehouses still standing but just barely holding on Weren't breweries or slated for the wrecking ball My mother tells me that my childhood home Has aged but 90 years Built from solid wood of ancient trees that used to Stand right here I listen to the cars on the road Like they're the river running past my house The one that my grandmother once played upon The one that flows in pipes beneath the ground The world I look at now made of concrete and glass Seems so set in stone as if it's all we have Once a year I walk out on the bridge To look at the city's towers Skyscrapers triangulated by the railroad And buildings following an ancient shore A landscape carved, in part, by a history older than time And one that is too recent to permit its lies