17 years ago we were living in a much smaller town
with a much bigger yard
a field the school used to own,
then blurred into our property lines

the bushes outlined in honeysuckle
my brother gnawed dry, and i found too bitter

17 years ago i moved into my own room
in the too-many-rooms house
i lasted until the first storm,
ran back into my brother’s room,
and re-bunked our beds back together

he kept the loud bugs at bay
and made sure scary Santa stayed away

17 years ago i drove a barbie car
up and down the hilled suburb,
stuck it into bushes and the ledge at the end of the driveway
my brother towed me out,
rope tied from the back of his tiny jeep

17 years ago my brother helped me steal a kitten
from the trailer across the street
the neighbors put her outside with no food
i cried leaving her alone, so inside she came
tucked under my cat-adverse brother’s arm

17 years later i live in a bigger town
with a much smaller yard
lined with trees full of the bugs that scream
my head aches from the noise,
and my brother always seems to be far away