Can you believe I’ve found employment
to bring myself back down? Obviously
to pay the rent too, but why am I bringing myself
back down? Probably because poetry doesn’t pay, though it does
take me away and I feel glorious
when it does, if aloof—if sentimental. I know I am more than a job, despite
how I feel this morning, with work
only being a means to… a means! But that only feels mean! Though at least I can still write
to get myself up, to start
my commute or just to feel
up, when I am able to, knowing
there’s no need to come down
when we’re able to. Though, do I need to be more grounded? Perhaps
I do, at least
as the new boy: I cannot fly into the office yet! But I can bounce
inside myself instead: I am allowed
to feel lifted. So I will skip along
my commute, sheepishly singing some
Astral Weeks, as unapologetically
poetic as I am. But I will have to brush my teeth
in the office on my first day
now, having spent
my morning writing this, having taken myself
up
and away again—having made myself late.
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ashley dunn 
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