"Sixteen elephant days
may not be enough
be sure, be sure."
But he was not sure
for he did not measure his minutes well.
And so the skeleton boy
broke apart
at the poolside one day.
He came unstacked.
He fell into a million little
brittle pieces.
They took
all that they could take,
merciless crooks, rabid scavengers.
They each picked a rib.
One nabbed the spine.
I made off with the wishbone myself.
And then,
he was nothing.
You see, he'd been giving his flesh away
bit by bit
every day, for years
like a fruit stand.
He had figured that
it wasn't much of a waste
because he had always retained
his framework, his pretty bones.
They were his trophies,
ivory coated and well arranged.
His body became
a walking anatomy lesson.
And whenever he was ravaged
or racked by his loneliness,
more and more of the skeleton
shone through.
Now, there were other people
in the world of the skeleton boy.
Prim, proper and precise.
Lepers of a different flesh.
They sucked up all the marrow
like sharks out of water
leasing elephant days to the hungry
like a sacrament.
To him these others seemed
so ripe and fragrant
so well-stacked and strong
so feastily tasty.
It was unnatural,
like a well groomed heresy.
For it was they who
were feeding off of him.
Relentlessly, they tore apart
his skeletal world.
He had only wanted
to hide among the structures.
But they exploited this eagerness,
milking him dry
making him play
a circus freak.
"Step right up, ladies and gents!"
Foolishly he had invited them
to all of his pool parties
forgetting that he owed them
sixteen elephant days.
He'd been on all of their lists.
But he could not fend them off
when they came to make him pay
when the clowns came collecting one day.
They wanted the very meat
off of his bones;
but he had nothing left to give.
So, the skeleton boy shrunk back
surrendering to their cannibal will.
He could not cough up a femur or skull
anymore.
He could not pay them enough.
He could never ever pay them
enough.
neat work .