Tell me something, will you,
about the time you
ate your brother’s sandwich
and drank the last cold Pepsi
while he was out washing the car,
and when he came in from the hot
sun, you slinked away up the stairs
and turned on the television,
and turned off the show he set to record
and then, without blinking,
you told him it was the neighbor kid’s fault
because that kid came over and fiddled with
everything.
And then you proceeded to tell your brother
that the girl of his dreams was really such a
dolt, and how, by the way, could he be serious
about someone who was both stupid AND crude?
And while you were at it, you told him that
he should quit trying to become a DJ,
he had no personality for that kind of work,
and his musical tastes were odd,
and his hair looked like something
from a bad eighties movie.
So when he turned to leave
Just a little red in the face,
You thought it was because
he was overheated from the car washing
and not the fact that you were
flicking tiles from the mosaic art piece
he had created for you last Christmas
as a gift.
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