11:05 on a Wednesday night

by Finnegan Alexander

today i pressed a mark
on the wall that said
it was the eighth month without you.
i took that as an excuse to celebrate,
and lose another one of my tendons
to add to the pile in the corner of my room.
and i’ve been meaning to send them to you,
but stamps just run so expensive
and it’s getting harder and harder to find
what to put on the outside of the envelope

i wanted to tell you:
when i was six i kept pollen in a mason
jar on my dresser
the dresser was made of mahogany
and the pollen was made of science
sometimes i would wake up early
in the morning and get some of the yellow
dust on my finger and just look at it
just look at it
i found out yesterday I’m allergic to air
when it has pollen in it and
isn't it funny that you can love a thing that kills you?

the eighth month is august. it’s
september now and i’ve asked what
it means to be eight months away
from something you love
all i’ve heard is congratulations
and i keep telling people i’m not sober
but that’s the only explanation that’s
made any sense so far so here’s to
missing you and alcohol

speaking of alcohol my dad
turned sixty seven last week
he still refuses to admit
that you exist and i exist and the whole
world doesn't know his name but
what does an old man know?
what does my old man know?

he told me once he said, ‘huck when you own a
house one day make sure it’s made of clay’
and i always heeded it. but now, listen
to me now,
i would live in a house made of bones with you
and i would trace them back from the
universes they came from
and we will sleep under the stars
and the skulls and the feeling that
assumes you right before death
and it will be comfortable for our
oh how aching souls
the days and nights would pass through the
remnants of cadavers
and the remnants of our childhood
would be painted on the walls
and it will be
all we need

we do not need brick houses
or mortar or bicycles made of silver
all i need is a pen and paper
all i need is some food and water
all i need is the guarantee
that she will be waiting for me,
when i leave.