I learn the family tree like a daily roadway,
each branch a turn I must take to arrive 
at university or work or the old pharmacy
and every line unfolding to tie into marriage 
an intersection where cars pass and switch 
and collide like fire. 

In this scenario, I find that I am a car, 
one gifted through the generations, 
to the children en route to nowhere
with spring trapped between doors,
comprehending that I descend from 
everything dead.