A LETTER TO MY BROTHER

My popsicle stick hands, stuck to every word you say

Showing me the world 

one abc burp after another

Coloring my horizons with

video game cheat codes and scary movie marathons

that mom and dad said I was never supposed to watch

They terrified me 

but i’d always pretend they didn't 

just so I could be a cool kid

Follow in your footsteps like a plagiarized book 

that I read over and over and

over

Guitar lessons from the wind 

listening but not requiring

the music to play

Your heartbeat is like an indie band

always doing something different

but correctly

And you laugh like the world is in awe of 

your flaws

You’ve never cared who they are

There’s a postage stamp on your forehead 

marking something special

modest

Dad said my spirit is a sun shower

always showing up with a little surprise

or a weather forecast, carrying in all sorts of news no one was expecting

a run on sentence, going going going

My voice box a wrong answer

that somehow still gets an A

for making someone smile

You taught me that

To smile even when the monster I’m scared of 

could be behind my own lips

Life isn’t a scary movie

It’s a busy street, filled with cars who don’t want to stop for us

and I keep jaywalking my way across peoples hearts

Someday I’ll learn to pluck my guitar strings

without expecting any sound