Brother, Brother

There were crisp autumn afternoons
Playing football near the garden
Where our ambitions grew tall.
Rhubarb in the corner, useful
for whipping each other
like boy kings flogging unruly subjects.

In our small prairie town
We rode our bicycles down back alleys
By nature ponds where geese would rest
after long flights across painted landscapes.

We played ice hockey and surprisingly
The smell of fresh ice and the sound of
taping up a pair of skates were golden moments
Turned nostalgic dreams.

Running down the single main street
Visiting the few friends we possessed
Going bowling at the five-pin
With the video cassette section, filled with
Movies were weren't old enough to see.

You and I had each other
And that made all the difference.
We made the most of a small town
That didn't make the most of us.