A Drink, An Oblivion Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

These are the moments where
I shove the photographs
Outside the window and watch
Them break in the speed
Of a freely-falling feather.

And an onlooker asks,
“Will a thing shatter at that pace? ”
What you did not understand there,
Find lad was,
No matter how buoyant
How resilient a river is,
Or how a feather slowly
Gets plucked out of the Sun’s garden,

Sooner or later
It will go unnoticed.
It will forever burn
In the ocean of oblivion.
Look at this, fine lad.

Watch these photographs,
As they get swallowed
By nothing but forgetfulness -
For in this world,
There are lots of great things
Like watching a man
Jump out of a window
Just to go back again -
Like a man who owns
A still photograph of a dead muse.

There is no point in the vacuum,
Only wretched consummation
And so here, one toast to oblivion.
“Do you even drink, lad? ”
“Yes, sir, I do.”

Well here, you are young
And you have a lot
Of engaging
And forgetting to do
This, take this lesson with you.

“To oblivion.” I raise my glass,
“Ah, yes, whatever that may be,
Fine sir.” Our glasses clicked.

It was one of those
Finer victories
I have ever had.