Head Trauma
My earliest memory. Coated in red.
I climbed the family cupboard when I hit my head.
Closing warm curtains, fourth wall goodnight.
We more than needed each other.
we were each other.
But that was long ago
after the ketchup we stole from the cabinet dried to a sticky crust.
browning.
Oxidized ultimatum.
High on table sugar, and countertops.
my brother knew sugar did the trick since his first taste.
but I was only three. Doped up on mischief, a first-timer's dilated pupil downloads, and a concussion.
Processing more than processed sweets, licking the bottle, and laughing at an ends farts.
We'd roam mercurial streets of orange glow.
Sixty-seven sixty-six, Wood Duck, stayed in our Ln.
The world felt much bigger when we were alone in our room.
Skeletal shadows, volatile environment.
Always kept a night light, but one night that lantern cast the shadow of of a wicked fleshless grin laughing at our choppy breathed terror fit, nightmare lamp lit.
Turns out the walls do change, home, home, on the range.
But I'll always know where to find you, my brother. but
I'd never show up uninvited or unwanted or unwarranted
So I'm not sure that you see me.
underneath my upside-down canoe on my lakeside.
like the one I knew you escaped to forever when you ran away at seven for the first time.
I Love you.
8/16/3:30 Am.
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