Z A C K M A K E Z M E W R I T E T O O

So the other day Shelby got me out of my poetry slump--now Zack seems to be doing the same.

Uncharted-ish

I want to look inside you.

Peer into your wrists and see your veins--

deep cerulean lines that follow each other,

turn my eyes over in my head

make me think you might be something

more than flesh.

.....

Serrated-bladed-fingers cut you open,

find a world more perfect than Eden.

Fringed skin peels back and I rub your

salmon skin, "They stuck a needle in me,

they took all my blood away. I'm sitting in

syringes on the counter. Tell me, what are they

looking for?"

.....

I don't have any answers for you,

watched them pour you into paper party cups--

sell you at lemonade stands at the end of

the streets in gated-communities.

They've got children selling people for

quarters! But, you're worth so much more

than that.

.....

They dug deeper, picked up your stomach

and put it on the table,

found the map written on your underbelly--

lifted the treasures out of your heart,

found the pearls of innocence wrapped around

your liver.

.....

I'm staring at you when, just before this morning

I could have sworn you were glass--

something reflective

something utterly similar and massproduced

.....

but, now I'm wondering if I was wrong.

Or if, deep down inside of us,

we're all like you:

complex, eternal, baffling,

something that would sell as quickly

and thoughtlessly as Shamwow's

something people would really believe in.

.....

Probably not though.

So, let's just stitch you back up then,

don't let the word get out,

hide those maps we found--

I wouldn't want anyone

wandering around out there.