brothers and sisters

you and eyes and hands holding in the glow of lanterns. here, all generations come together, we play with the past, we mock ancestors, we patch blue jeans we tear at hearts, among the paisley my family tree buds into playful differences, folded unfolded refolded, me to you with tears in between - weep for grandmother, i cry for the business turn arounds, the sons of methodist ministers who found life intolerable, unlivable, unwanted. do not speak your mind yet, do not, but come round to the corner convenience store and feel every tension breathing through these sighs - crate and barrel at christmas in boston - this commerciality is so close to home these deep red products must be family. it is fall and the air is cold and rich in content - some straight forward, some ironic, some merely pointing to all that remains hidden. the sun stirs dust through this lodge, this lodge of high beams, this lodge of dwelling and paternity and gender benders - not male, not female, not homosexual, only deeply caffeinated and sterile. let's take this one slow, lets take this one outside the city gates, lets make this one count. in virginia our gills will not breath in the sharp air of the hills, in the crisp dawns that reveal truth, in the winding streets of richmond where i first took the plunge and fell in love and fell in truth and revealed truth and plunged into playful differences. she was not me and so i loved here. her long brown hair falling into the form of aches hurts throbs - lets hit the brakes. and find the time to be brothers. and find the time to be sisters.