A Brother's Love

Now there's just silence with the occasional slush from that beverage that's turning his brain into mush...

A condensed, poetic retelling of a conversation I had too many times.

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A Brother's Love
10/27/2007
David C. Roberson

“I love you,” says the voice–
a man on the line
from a great snowy place.
He’s a brother of mine.

He’s slurring his speech
while he’s feeling quite ill,
from the kamikazes he drank.
Now he’s starting to spill.

He sounds broken up,
because his voice keeps on cracking,
and I imagine his posture
is at this point quite lacking.

But I say to him, “Yeah,
I love you, too…”
And he interrupts me with,
“Seriously, I love you, dude.”

I know that he does,
But we’d been arguing
like brothers oft do
about any number of things.

This time, he said
to me with great passion,
that he thought I put walls
up around my emotions.

But that isn’t true,
they’re right on my sleeve!
Despite all my longing,
my great, desperate need

to bury them deep
in a vat of concrete
in the back of my mind
so I might get some sleep.

I need a cigarette now,
what with all this commotion,
but I’m trying to stop–
cravings splash like the ocean.

Then he says my best friends
aren’t what they seem,
that they’re incarnate evil.
I can hear his smile beam.

He claims both are liars—
that one speaks of Jesus,
but fucks everyone
and denies it to please us.

The other’s a temptress
with nothing to offer.
Smiling and sultry,
but stupid – why bother?

And I have to defend them,
but he laughs, “Let it go,
You won’t believe it 
till I say I told you so.”

Now there’s just silence
with the occasional slush
from that beverage that’s turning
his brain into mush.

Then finally he mumbles,
“Sorry, I’m drunk as shit.”
And I say, “Yeah, I know,
It’s okay, I’m used to it.”

And he tells me that hurts him.
I say, “Yeah, well, tough luck.
These days when you call me,
you’re always untucked.”

So he thinks for a minute,
and I think he’s hung up,
but he’s looking for water
to put in his cup.

My cup is empty
after speaking with him.
Which is odd. When he rang,
It was filled to the brim.

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