Personalities for the Future

I was shipped out to a camp
one week in the summer
reserved for youth who raised farm animals for the slaughter
so that we might be gathered together
and better develop our personalities for the future. 
 
I had willed myself not to shit for that entire week
thus avoiding any possible laughter from the others
that concerned the abnormal nature of my insides.
 
On Wednesday we were visited
by that year’s reigning Miss Indian World
who wore a tall crown and with poise explained the significance of her three hoops
she jangled as she moved across the uneven cement stage 
and then distributed her photograph at the end.

She wore glasses like me
but had otherwise been smiled upon on by genetic fortune
high cheekbones and breasts
 
After that I lay in my bunk to read
wanting nothing more than to shit
while outside the boys and girls paired off in the afternoon sun
developing their personalities for the future.
 
The bent-back boy with twisted feet
came in the cabin and with difficulty climbed into his cot
because his knees would never bend for the rest of his life
and I watched him from behind my book.

He held Miss Indian World’s photograph in his stiff and tender hands
oblivious to me, his eyes taking her in, every detail
for an hour his unrequited body wanting nothing more than to love her
and mine wanting nothing more than to shit
in silence developing our personalities for the future.

© Craig Calhoun