My brother drove his car barefoot
the dash strewn with empties
old cassettes and maps to places
he never saw the sharp bend
how the river leapt
and no-one said suicide but if you’d picked up
as I fumbled laundry quarters
for the payphone
I would’ve told you
endings are brutal
metal on granite
barely time to reconsider
before the sun slips
and silence
steals the color so I let it ring hung up
when your wife answered
my greyblue yearning
twisting
through the dial tone
like childhood drives
from the old house wrestling boredom
and tuna sandwiches
my little brother’s head in my lap
shoes off sweaty palms on my jeans
wiping crumbs confusion
when I woke him relief when I whispered
we’re here, we’re here The rain tastes of gas
when they haul his station wagon
onto the bank one headlight blinking
wildly I watch clouds destroy themselves
listen to the hum of phone wires
wait for you to answer to whisper
I’m here, I’m here
