Nick Endicott, Oberlin College '20

what makes it a fifth is that it fits in my pocket—what makes it mine is that that silly fool bought it—brought-in latest plastic reddit shit, unedited, and better when you remember the residence—insensitive, selected, made mine a mansion on the salt-dusted Newport coast—big beaux belle arts affair, baroque and spare space, schematically built up on the crop of a share—lace-blue big baby with a name and a namesake—Quatrel—for the walls or the limbs or the buttresses lifting up air—I can’t remember—baby blue Rhode Island, backlit by a new image, unreligion—I thought it after I bought it, after the big bow delivery, a sin-and-see—what a shame if I transfer to Brown, a false rectangular R-I of unbought property, known to me but sight-unseen, they’d sniff my gild—the scent of “see?”—beaux arts bought for a fifth of tequila gold drunk thoughts, a will to be made by a future me—alcohol bought, drank down to ill—legal license, wrapped up in the property—a sea-smelly seven-figure mansion in Newport, never laid a finger on it and it’s all mine—Bellevue Avenue is all mine—broad blind sunrise mine—all sweet life mine—a fake ID—mine