Emmet Penney '11
To do: remember that he is not you.
You have plateaued where he plummeted, stayed
afloat where he went under. Back when you
were younger, the inert july air made
you woozy in the back yard. He tried
and failed to keep himself from falling in
front of the neighbors. Mr. Baker sighed,
like, Now I know why I never liked him.
You watched as your mother shook him awake
then took him inside. It was like a crop
circle—even the new seeds failed to take.
After enough kids asked you learned to stop
trying at the truth. “It was just some bum.”
You can’t explain where marks like that come from.