Bonding with my brother
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
deep in the middle of the night
I would track my drunken brother to
sooth the worries of his mother,
the weight of her silent pleading
held me down low to the ground
and I checked every alley, every dumpster,
every nook and cranny and every large
box till I would find him
lost like a paper sack soaked and discarded
he was litter on the landscape, Mad Dog
or Ripple in his hand—a thumb tack to pin him
to the ground
I would bring him home, clean and wash him
a weekly ritual, like a good Catholic, I would sit him in a chair
dry his hair and pour cups of coffee into him, feed him and
listen to him babble in the language of drunks,
somehow it eased the pressure and we’d pretend that we
were normal, like other families, whatever the fuck that meant,
but this one time it was different, this one time I lost it and
started to slap him around, each time I hit him I felt stronger
more powerful, I hated the bastard and his hold on my life,
I held his skinny ass up in the air and choked him while my
mother screamed, I wanted him dead, I squeezed hard then
dropped him,
he smiled at me in his drunken defiance, he knew, he knew
I had changed then, and
he wasn’t alone anymore.
J. Masuda © 2005
I would track my drunken brother to
sooth the worries of his mother,
the weight of her silent pleading
held me down low to the ground
and I checked every alley, every dumpster,
every nook and cranny and every large
box till I would find him
lost like a paper sack soaked and discarded
he was litter on the landscape, Mad Dog
or Ripple in his hand—a thumb tack to pin him
to the ground
I would bring him home, clean and wash him
a weekly ritual, like a good Catholic, I would sit him in a chair
dry his hair and pour cups of coffee into him, feed him and
listen to him babble in the language of drunks,
somehow it eased the pressure and we’d pretend that we
were normal, like other families, whatever the fuck that meant,
but this one time it was different, this one time I lost it and
started to slap him around, each time I hit him I felt stronger
more powerful, I hated the bastard and his hold on my life,
I held his skinny ass up in the air and choked him while my
mother screamed, I wanted him dead, I squeezed hard then
dropped him,
he smiled at me in his drunken defiance, he knew, he knew
I had changed then, and
he wasn’t alone anymore.
J. Masuda © 2005
