Sibling

My brother, Alejandro. Age 14:







Once nice thing about having a younger sibling is that I can tug at him, toy with him, dress him up and take pictures. "Look over to the right. No, my right. Make me smile."

I don't have to tell him to make the perfect faces.

"Done?"

"No, look coy." Snap crackle pop. Here I sit, tea cup in hand, back from Golden Hill; I may possibly go back Sunday evening for all of its loveliness. Until then, I'll be having dreams of ghosts and fish, and love and love and love...

Scarce words, scarred words, things I do not say... pink clouds-clots anishing. I live in the thin line between night and day.

Oh, also I started summer classes earlier this week. Wheee x 450. Me:

I Love This

My breath tastes like cherries.

My breath tastes like cherries because I drank two whirley Shirley Temples (and some champagne, too).

I can feel my heart fluttering against my cheeks. I am listening to the chatter of the house, music, and laughter. The sound is giving me a hug... I feel loved by music. Blah blah. Who knws how this will read when I am sober. The words on the screen look thin and brittle and breakable and jagged and jarring. Where am I?

I am, here.

I am here and my breathe tastes like cherries. I feel like a cherry, so pulpy and pressed outwards against a rosy surface. I just went deaf in one ear.

I feel illuminated, flickering... like a candle in a pumpkin. I'm laughing. I just said 'a candle in a pumpkin.' it's getting too hard to type.

And so I...
say goodbye and good night.