“I will hang up on you if you keep breathing like that,”
I interrupted you, as you complained that
you can’t stop eating candy for breakfast and salad for dinner.
Other times, I wished that I believed in energy,
or felt sad because I know,
one day, people will look at my brother and say,
“His money makes decisions for him.”
But each dark day, one of my favorite puddles is refilled,
respectable as a new Bible,
waiting for the Sun to start bloodletting.
