YOUNG WOLF

I remember cradling your head
cooing; singing your family songs
in a voice not quite confident.
Those big purple/green mountains looking
all bruised and intimidating
deafening
in their volume. Static noise, which
over powered the dusty tapes we played
as we rush past in a little silver
volvo
taking a deep breath to go on to the next verse.

I remember a few chilled October nights
your slight nose painted,
brown for fox
black for tiger
other animals too, i suppose.
straw bale hair
bushing out, almost
as excited as you.

I remember hanging upside down on your couch
 hair, dusting the floor.
Wayne's world 1 and 2 and
two bowls of ice cream because
i wanted you to think i was cool.
Almost sheepishly I took the worn bills from your
mothers hand
shy
to put value on time spent together.

I remember your new sounds
voice low now, like aduki beans
and dry toast.
You wore a nice grey sweater
and I was unsure of the moment you grew taller than me
Did it creep past me?  or maybe it stood proud in front
of me and
I just looked through it. Glassy eyed and back facing the door.

I remember two years ago and shuffling
in the robust kitchen, socks collecting crumbs. I sneaked you downstairs
fed you liquor,
the agave burning our lips as we passed a bottle between
cousins.
Upstairs, pressing thick plastic buttons we left sad messages.
I was too drunk to remember the rest of the games played.
You were too sweet to remind me.

I remember last year. shallow messages sent
into late night grey clouds on black.
your sister and I
we drove
and drove
and drove, something we do. Across empty highways
Your nonsense, tomfoolery. you have such wit
and a golden heart. To aide and abet
navigation
high school
all things made
of salty blue skies
and wind whips.