I see an image of you;
Enraged red becoming purple,
Thumbing confident rage
Into a phone.
Is it all for me?
When we were young
You lived in England for a couple years.
Came back, desperate to be among us
To belong again.
I remember worrying aloud about your return.
That you would bring a cruelty to the laughter.
We wrestled once, among friends,
And in the instance that I had you beat
I saw your eyes become wide, white, and wild.
As young men, we were like brothers.
Different in every way but still sharing
Friends, homes, ambitions.
But there was still that energy in you,
An energy that trickled out in the tones and contents of comments,
That you cannot or will not hear,
That has erupted in moments of play turned violent.
For years I think I wanted something else,
Sought out in relationships that you criticized,
Sometimes rightly,
Sought out with acquaintances,
That did not feel like family.
When my turn came to move away,I was terrified but you encouraged me.
You dared me to want more and so I did.
I'm worried that what I found was more than we anticipated:
A career eludes me but care envelops me
And I now feel again among family
But without those punches, pokes, jabs, and jokes.
That I still expect.
Were they all for me?
I saw life destroy you twice:
I would not lose the bond we haveThe times we've shared.
But the person that was in me has grown
And will not accept the barbs in our brotherhood;
We've wrestled thrice more over the last 4 years
And I have again seen that rage in you,
That sees contradiction in conversation,
That sees antithesis in talk,
That strikes out when self-conscious.
I see an image of you;
Enraged red becoming purple,
Thumbing confident rage
Into a phone.
Is it all for me?
