Today’s prompt asked for a “going somewhere” poem. My brain went back to the future and I followed.

10.

I woke up believing that time travel was possible, but only backward. A chunk of memory, pulled out  and placed in a snow globe, but don’t shake it too hard. Does a memory darken when you view it too many times? Smudged, like a window at the zoo, because everyone wants to get nose-to-nose with a tiger. Visited too often, does a memory change, shift colours in certain lights, or curl at the edges? I woke up thinking of Marty McFly, going back — no, really, physically back — the precursor to his being. What a dangerous place to be, the before. Consequences of every possible outcome compressing your brain. You going somewhere? Yeah, whether we want to or not. And hey hey, just like Jay sings, I know all we’re doing is travelling without moving. The body doesn’t have to go to enjoy the slick hook, the synth-fueled ride. The mind catches the beat, dances us behind the curtain, into the dim-lit back room.