the beer and your hockey sweater, as you drank in anger
and let out rage
because the toys had been left in the hallway again
but I can never seem to remember what came after
the sound of a footstep at the door
inside the locked bathroom, I explored
and your chilling words
"what are you doing in there?"
laughing, looking left, right,
then down at your back tire my front one touched it
I never knew, never thought, blood
could flow so freely
the party, near midnight, the ball on TV
you, everyone, were drinking, laughing, arguing
and I sat on the couch, reading
because only the books would talk to me
the look of pure rage, hate
baseball bat in hand as you hollered and chased me
the egg still visible on your bay window through the bushes
as I got away
a beloved cousin, trusted, looked up to
inviting me up a hill pointing to the distance
then pissing on my leg as I turned to look
and seeing the multitude of fists seeking my company
becoming a super-hero one summer aboard ship
running to the wheelhouse, not seeing the hole in the deck
and becoming "Captain Gravity"
down-to-Earth kind of guy
a picture of my Australian great-grandfather
surrounded by his fourteen children, fifty-three great grandchildren
great great grandchildren, and their children as well
he was 95, successful in a way I can only dream of being
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