The road not traveled often has the
ripest blackberries.
Just like the bike path behind Lomita,
Where I scraped my knee.
Even among the ripest berries some remain solemnly sour…
From unrightful death, springs:
Intersectional webs that bind our unprotected feet for forever,
Wading through the tempered and ethereal sand.
From the cruelly departed,
take the leap!
He would want that; He said so in his rainbow goodbye.
I hope they don’t beat the charges.
Sometimes I see the face of the boy taken too soon:
In my dreams his teeth smile joyously.
Or I receive a text with his name.
He always used perfect punctuation.
I always awaken to a lap pool of sweat knowing,
Full well knowing he hasn’t posted on Instagram
for years and never will again.
I lost the song we made.
The universe gripped its harsh,
Harsh meathooks into me for a
calloused handful of bitter days;
The unexplainable tore me to cracked skin and brittle bone!
My intuition screamed my name,
“Gabriel Glasgow!”
A hungry earworm bored its way into my audio processor.
but for days,
I didn’t listen.
So I reach out,
– “salutations” –
Serenely knowing this poem will most likely
never see the soft light of better days.
Gabriel Glasgow 
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