Bundled up, just heads held aloft

By layers of coats and scarves

We are truly twins, your thinner

Frame not so visible.


In the spring and summer

You tan better, so much so

Grandma called you Mexican

Then revised herself: Black Irish.


I don’t live here anymore

So I depend on you, brother,

To lead our bloated bodies

To the football game.


Before we step out Mom

Takes another picture beaming

Joy at her big boys:

Some things should stay the same.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s