Tag Archives: sister

I Celebrate Your Life (a sketch)

It’s summer days like these that I miss you most, Sweet Sister
When the radio seems to be playing all the right songs
When the sun warms me but doesn’t burn me
That I most often think of you and the life we had at home

Sweet Sister – we never knew what we were missing
We had our own universe there in that place that was built on love
Looking back we learned it was somewhat fractured but no less brilliant

The day when you shocked that lily white world
In your pristine white gown and over-sprayed brown hair
You laid that crown on the virgin’s metaphorical head

The night we sat at the old picnic table and drank cheap wine
We talked about nothing all night long until we heard the birds
The sun came up over my right shoulder and hurt your eyes

There were people who thought better of me than of you
Their minds were small and their vision was blurred

You became more like the old man than I was – despite what they said
You became more like the old man than I was – despite how we were raised
You became more like the old man than I was – despite how easy it was for me

Then came that box of building supplies and we built bridges not walls
You always asked for empirical – all I had to offer was anecdotal

It’s summer days like these that I miss you most, Sweet Sister

I celebrate your life
I mourn your passing
Mostly I just miss you

Your Sister’s Eyes

The strings beneath my fingers dig into the fleshy tips
The clear crisp sound bounces off of the walls of the little dining room
It bounces past your sister’s eyes following a straight and steady course
Deep into your smile – your smile is music itself

The sound travels back to me to gain energy to resume its course
It bounces past your sister’s eyes its course is strong and steady
But this time it stops at your smile it lingers there touching your lips
The way I wish I could – delicately but definitely
And when it comes back – when it has finally had enough
When it just can’t take it anymore it returns to me and settles itself on the floor
But not before it has known the love in your smile and in your sister’s eyes

Every Time She Saw It

for Ami

My sister used to love to tell me
About the way my eyes looked when I was in love
She said she could see it from a passing car
She said I couldn’t fake it – I couldn’t force it
And she could always see it
If I was in love only for a moment
Or if I was in love for a million years
She could see it in my eyes
And she’s the only one who believed it every time she saw it

In The Morning with My Sister

I never realized how much magic amazes me
The quickest sleight of hand makes my pulse race
I always want to know how it works
But I am always let down once I do
I remembered this one morning
After seeing my sister do the ring trick
I ran my fingers through my hair
And went in search of the elusive cigarette

She told me that she doesn’t know how to get out
I told her that there was only one way
She cocked her head and looked at me
I told her that I only have three friends
Four she said and kissed my cheek
I turned my back and walked toward my car
I never asked for any of this
I’ve lived this night before
A twisted martyr scene on my father’s front lawn
The neighbors at the windows tittering nervously
Now alone, in a dark vast parking lot
Wishing that it was over but knowing that it isn’t

If the world ended tomorrow
Who would miss what?
How much would they miss?
It’s only words that testify-mystify-mollify
Words that roll around on your tongue
That soften with saliva
That feel good against your teeth
But if they get diluted by thin air
Will they ever be realized?
Who would miss them?
How much would they be missed?