Rebirth in May-
were jeans out their original shade,
washed out sleet gray
an Old Dublin tee, bleach stained
almost antique
pet peeve strings
hung off stretching sleeves.
-the windows down
brittle cold rushed between our lungs
along the emerald driven sea-
We’d drive the highway
beneath the tall pines many times that spring
listening: Tom Petty, the Refugee-
Watching the forest’ pine needles
smear from the nest of my truck
(watercolors washed)
towering OVER us
it became easy to realize-
all Olympians must someday swallow pride.
and faltering below a vanilla bean sky
I understood my hands shall someday loose hold
of their grip on the bar, this life.
but on that day, in those times,
we were eternal: my brother and I.
we were Greek Gods.
