Sibling Psychology

 

He’s dead to us now—

our jackass younger

brother—the one we

ridiculed for being odd

and unlike us. But what

the hell. He was our weirdo

who yodeled arias while

showering, and loathed

soccer, and spent the whole

trip to Cabo playing Xbox

in the game room’s dark.

 

Lucky you were born to us,

is what we used to say,

pushing him farther away

in that unhealthy mode

of dysfunctional attachment

that characterizes our clan.

Our problems go way back

to the old country and the bad

brain chemistries of all those

bloody-minded Highland Scots

who lived to drink and fight . . .

 

We passed along that lineage

of genes to him and bore

the consequences, and never

even threw him out—until

the end when he stole our stuff

and hocked it at Cash for Gold,

and threatened to incinerate

us all while we were sleeping

just because we wouldn’t share

our Xanax and our Ambien.