a short reprise for new year's eve

it is screeching airplane tires on icy asphalt
and the sister of the boy next to me humming over the phone.
it is my brother, 14,
leading the lethargic terminal in a countdown
that resonates with even the half and half woman
with no man
and 3 kids all aged trouble.

squirming bodies
and itchy legs
and uncomfortable eye contact.

commitment, the lack of escape
between seat cushions and stiff liquor
and his head on my shoulder.
it is shouldering responsibility.  

the stars have taught me the true meaning of distance,
that appreciation stems from a lack of proximity.

it is marveling at the number of times
my brother’s jaw flexes when he is dreaming
of train rides to the sky.
it is wondering about evolution,

the Wright brothers and their fantasies,
a fairy tale with no punch line or magic.
it is realness and realization of the beauty in moving on.

it is flicking hair ties at the back of the head in 16A
because i would rather instigate than evaporate.

it is flying with a strap and harness and regulation
and letting the irony sink in.
the sinking feeling
from only a sense of touch and no fingerprints.

it is wanting to touch him more than wanting to breathe.
it is unnatural and unfair and instinctual all at the same time.
it is security between arm rests and safety in his arms.
it is knowing but not admitting the difference.