I want to say it is urban legend.
that kid they say roams the halls
muttering The Waste Land under his breath.
his dissertation a Carthage in his eyes.
perhaps you had one at your school.
perhaps you waited one day, all
day, to catch a glimpse of him
outside the door to Philosophy in Literature
in Film, undoubtedly Flaubert over and over and over.
I want to say it isn’t true. that they found him,
sitting upright, nude, in the campus