You tied me to a tree, sisterly, despising me.
I was little, not remembering this cruelty.
Only family mythology that we carry.
I left my scissors in the couch. I remember
Them sticking out of your leg where now a cave
Remains for the reminder.
You took me to the record store. We bought
“My Sharona” and you colored o’er Sharona’s
Transparent tank top with ball point pen. What a sin.
We were headed to the movies and you were driving
The VW Bug. Not sure how it unfolded but the front got molded
By the back of a pick-up truck and that poor VW got folded up.
What once was round in the front was squared on its forward trunk.
And then there was the time I fake farted in your face
Blocking the TV until you were enraged which evolved
Into a full blown cat-fight brawl with Dad. A wrestling match
Paired with my first hearing of the words “Chauvinist Pig!”
Yes, we had an antagonistic relationship. You took my room
And threw away my shit. I was far from the perfect brother.
Usually the first to tattle to mother.
But with age comes appreciation and we evolved to become musicians.
You were always an ardent fan and we shared the love of playing in a band.
And now we, both, are just these old farts.
Ready for this next chapter to start.
