Anthropology – by Zachary Hodges

 

I’ve wanted you

ever since I,

petrified log of

suburban

boredom,

settled at your muddy banks

in Hoey Residence Hall,

                        six floors from

                        the tree toes

                        counting granite

                        chips in the valley.

I had slipped there to get drunk

                        with Long Lost Bryan

                        who would disappear

                        into a pool of

                        methamphetamines

                        and never really

                        came back.

Apparently that’s Jack you’d

docked yourself to or moored

yourself on,

                        I’ve never decided.

 

            Periwinkle noon

settled mean outside,

                                    anxious rain meandered

                                    and

                        plastered Boone

                        in a death mask,

steam rose from the

laundry room coffins.

 

            You are there, and

            Red’s dorm room

                        shines

covenant bright; proud incandescent

                                                            hum.

            Indiana taught me look away,

                        taught me there

                        really is shit out there

                        that can kill you for lookin.

So I slunk,

            every fossilized inch,

                        into the

shot glass,

            waiting for the bristle

            of the brush I’ve hoped

you’ll exhume

me with.