The heat bleeds through me, reminds me of the summer
when I was little, littler, barefoot in the cul-de-sac with my sister
and screaming as we ran from our little brother,
smiling as he chased us with a gun full of water.
Like I could listen to the birds and bugs, a song
I could never forget, heard every time I look through a photo.

But why are you not there? You’re missing, the hand in the edge of the photo,
just out of frame, but you were gone that summer,
just like always, like every season. I listened to your favorite song
and it was like you were there, in the colors of my sister,
the sound of her voice, singing, splashing in the water
while we waited for you. Did he miss you, our little brother?

The same colors, shared, in the hair and the eyes and skin of my little brother,
but not shared in time spent. I took all of them, and still another photo
where we had to miss you. Ignore the stains, teardrops, or water
from a sprinkler, maybe. Aren’t those things you do, during summer?
Cry and stand in the hot rain? I did. We did. And I was not a sister
when you left. I wasn’t, not to you and not to me. You hated that song

but I loved it. It could’ve been ours. It wasn’t. Just another song
you change the channel from. I always wanted you to be a better brother,
one at all. I thought it would be nice, to be a little sister
for once. Go back to when nothing was complicated, another Halloween photo
with our arms around each other, you, a vampire, me, a mermaid. Back to summer
when I screamed at the fireworks and you laughed. Back when it didn’t have to be water

under the bridge, under anything at all. It could just be water
in a Scooby Doo sippy cup that we passed back and forth, the theme song
loud in our ears and the VCR. When time was golden and slow, summer
soft like grass under our feet, hot pavement, fascinated by our new brother
and in awe of his soft head. When dad took his camera everywhere, every moment a photo
to be developed. Aren’t you glad? We can look back on that. When sister

and brother were brother and sister.
Before we grew and it all grew with us, swollen like the world’s angriest water
balloon over our heads. Do you remember the last time we stood together, for a photo
no one had to force? The last time we sat and didn’t argue about everything, when a song
was just a song and not a sticking point? When it was funny to pick on our brother
and he was something to be shared? When was the last time we played, in the summer?

I want more and better photos, like the soft kind I can share with our sister.
I want cool nights in the summer, feet dipped in at the edge of the water.
I want to know your favorite song, and I want to know an older brother.