The Pilgrims
I remember those days,
While driving home, my brother’s fourth tooth
and suitcase
split. I was riding in the van,
pulling through our street, in the dark.
Where was Sam? Far away by then.
Then David had his own wills. They
were too wholesome to kick-
drinking, being roofeed up or something.
That’s when they’d found him, a restless
man at a road, who called the ambulance.
I thought back to when I’d hid
trips to Bradenton, when I’d hid my phone
calls, when I’d moved to Port Orange.
I’d settled with Kassie, went swimming after
runs, in dry-like dessert days.
That was our home at 18, me looking up,
Hoping for Santa Cruz, but screaming
inside as I went.
I made it- the blue sky that was hot under the thumbs,
The make believe castles that rode Thunder Mountain.
In the beginning it was that red-head girl who laughed
when she swam, who wore bathing suits
to tan in frost.
Like my love, he was swarmed with things
undulating, and it occurred to us we were in
water. It happened each time I left INS
and it happened when he left
D.C.
Some may see- you choosing partners like your
dances, with brothers.
I did. You go in circles enough, spinning lines
from taped songs,
you reach out for measuring sticks
that rose you up,
when you were trying
to find your age.
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