Just Anybody, or Poem against the Crumbling of the Republic
Old friend,
stuck in that small town,
we tried every way we could
to kill ourselves.
That night down on the river,
that night I lost you?
That was a stupid night.
I think about it all the time.
We’d already sunk the front wheels
of your three-on-the-tree Impala
in the cow shit & mud.
Around the fire
I didn’t know half the faces.
You gnashed a palmful of pills.
You took off your shirt.
I didn’t want to ride with just anybody.
Old friend,
where did you go? I circled the flames,
banged on every back window.
Later, swaying at the water’s edge,
I started tossing rocks,
winging them hard.
I was hoping in the dark
I’d hit you.
Credit
Copyright © 2018 Joe Wilkins. Used with permission of the author. This poem originally appeared in The Southern Review, Summer 2018.
Author
Joe Wilkins
Joe Wilkins received his MFA in creative writing from the University of Idaho. He is the author of the poetry collections When We Were Birds (University of Arkansas Press, 2016), Notes from the Journey Westward (White Pine Press, 2012), and Killing the Murnion Dogs (Black Lawrence Press, 2011). He is the director of creative writing at Linfield College and lives in Oregon.
Date Published
08/28/2018