Below a Projected Overpass
by Sudikshaa Amar
Ruminating over infinite spaces,
a desire for
a third space,
a second
place
to call
home
after all the bickering.
But you only
dwell in one to
distract
from any potential
lapses in judgment.
In that empty void, you manage to
build a one-story off Interstate 87
opposite a billboard for the Gilroy Garlic Festival,
farther down another titled Naloxone Saves Lives.
Manzanitas starting to wilt along
hopes of thwarting eminent domain.
Sometimes unconsciousness
can make auras transform into crows
ready for migration.
Sagebrushes with crystalline topography.
Occipital gyri look like
roadmaps from Contra Costa back to
Santa Clara.
Do you yearn to reside within me?
Away from the incessant
need to build the next Fortune 500
startup?
Away from English settlers
planting fescue in hell?
Unseen through the barbed wire
through the Forbes 30 Under 30 to prison pipeline,
of endowment and asset pools
mirroring the steep migration from Cerro Gordo
before darkness took over the valley.
…Recalculating a new route towards the plummet…
Since you are unable to measure the start of elevation.
But you know that will not happen after the fall.
Conformity now becomes innovation found in contour maps,
a familiar (inter)face to feature or efface.
An escape route through onlookers
staring at your drop foot
as you drag yourself through white beams blended
into the horizon
