Going Poem by Abraham de la Torre

He subdues the restless
Urge to worry
And dresses
Up Instead.
It is four-thirty. Everything's ready:
The Samsonites dymoed and masking taped;
Rechecked thrice (the third
for good measure): the hardware
safe in the linen.
There is time for a cup of coffee
(Good old cup, portable dreams
35-mm hard-ons, rec hall prayers
Roaches poems, rotgut wit)
And another once-over
Before the looking glass.
Then the thinking.
Looking good, the stories
Will have to take shape
In the air. A hand-carried
Purse of friends sharing
Time - a necessary semblance
Of farewell - for a passing
Token (if no pictures
Are taken) to the folks. Time
Is a slowly dying enemy until
The boarding stub.