Monday, July 11, 2016

the brother

your brother spends
a few nights
on your couch, going through hard
times
brought on
by himself.
you have no rules
for his visit, stay, sleep, eat,
shower,
make it your home,
no smoking though
is allowed.
so it surprises you when at the end
of the week,
you smell
cigarettes in the air,
and see that he has
gone through all your papers,
your accounts, your
private
box of bills, clumsily
stuffing them back
where they were found.
how different you both are
despite the blood.

1 comment:

Di said...

Never leave quests in the house
unattended, hover over them, wait outside
the bathroom door, check the medicine cabinet for
missing recreational drugs--your own array allows for many options: adrenal and zanax and zolpiden, a few more thrown in for depression or over or under active thyroid that you heard affects the libido. Your lost brother might try it in place of a little blue pill. trust no one, the former lover who volunteered to take care of your fish, your animals, wandered about your cavernous home looking for pieces of your past a picture of you legs loped over the desk looking so much of you long ago. She wanted to steal that picture, stood have stolen it. And all those drugs