Me and Charlie
used to be real close
when we were younger,
on account of all the moving
and leaving our old friends behind
and making new ones every year,
but then we moved here
where Mama and my daddy
lived when they were
first married,
and we stayed.
Mama picked this place.
She said she wanted
me and Charlie to know
my daddy’s family,
but I think what she
really wanted was help
with my daddy.
He hated it here,
with Gran and Granddad
right across the street
and Aunt Bee fifteen miles
down the road,
checking in on him
when he pulled in our driveway
too long after sunset.
The night my daddy left,
Charlie’s eyes got real dark,
like a storm lived there.
Charlie loved my daddy,
even on the nights
he walked in the door
like he was trying not to fall over,
nights when he’d throw
ashtrays at Mama
and trip over chairs
like he didn’t even see them.
Charlie was the only one
brave enough to stop him
when he turned mean.