memory #37.

the truth is that id never match him.

my brother,

moving on like lightening

down the block.


I remember that feeling of giggling

and nervousness finding itself

down in the center of me.

And my face would be snatched

back by muscles-

i couldn’t stop smiling.


We’d reached the end of our walk home-

the top of the block.

And as tradition called for. . .

we’d race for the front door.


I flew,

pushing weight, loosing air, laughing,

hoping to, at some point, defy gravity.


And sometimes i’d look to see where

he was

usually pretend to look at the time

“hot damn!” he’d erupt.

“i gotta go!”


like lightening

bags and all

leavin’ me feelin’ all kinds of ways- mostly mad.


and the truth is that i could never match him,

my brother,

movin on a whole another speed.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s