you drained the bottle of San Miguel beer
as if it was tap water
showing me, your first cousin,
how you have grown:
loud arguments for women's rights,
with cigarette pack (ignoring the surgeon
general's warning)
& a swagger pose for an 18 year old
i joined you and our cousins
by grabbing a bottle of beer myself,
proud to show off that I can hold both the beer
& lively talk (a rite of passage as a teen)
the beer tasted a bitter lager to me
but the ice made me gulp
each swig a little easier & bolder
it was never the bottles of beer though
or uncle's signature pork & beans dish
that made this family gathering remarkable
our fathers (all 4 brothers) were gathered
around the table, expertly brandishing
the golden beer bottles
(we are poor imitators of their beer rowdiness)
with their eyes teary with mirth
as their wives
chatted in another huddle, exhanging gossip
our fathers are the heartbeat &
life of this party
it was the jokes & silly advices
(repeatedly ex/changed over the years)
it was the sloppy conversations
(he said, she said versions)
it was the fake quarrels & rousing debates
(challenges issued & done)
my father's belly laughter
(young, rippling of energy)
that echoed in the night
that i still remember
long after our fathers
(all the 4 brothers)
have died,
& yes after our
silbings & 2 aunts have died too
now, you (still a proud
single first cousin) quit smoking & Scientology
& rowdy arguments
we don't order San Miguel beer
but sip our glasses of water with cheers
as we catch up with the lost years
in between
the chasm is wide
but we warm up in our distinct sing-song vowels-
also, the family jokes still make us giggle
your face is soft sadness of sunset
and my hands are looking more like my
mother's
as our voices fade, holding on to lost
letters
Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Bottled Poetry. Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST about what is brewing inside your bottle. Thanks for the visit and comments.
