Ashley D. Escobar
Soon (We have all the time in the world)

I’m feeling rather lousy in your green sweater,
all I can remember is today.

A friend sent me a letter
of words to end an era,
ephemera to chase the clouds away.

(You were too busy pushing
piles of dust into dust)

I dreamt the Golden Gate
sat in Portugal. (Don’t jump––dive)
Repetition compulsion, think and repeat. Drink and cheat
your heart into believing it didn’t break on its own.

Another party, another down day––cynicism to saturate
your alcove–––is it weighing you down or are you
floating?

(We’ve grown).