Brother

I could always recognize the echoing ring of your voice across a hollow auditorium. To me, everyone else mumbled. Forcing my knees flat to kneel on a squealing folding chair hoping for a peek at you slyly persuading an opponent that the Earth was flat. You vanished from the stage and I furiously plunked back down and returned to studying my sneakers. When you left for college I pouted, sullen on the sofa waiting for you to roar up the driveway in your car once more. The house was a silent morgue, empty of politics and debating and all the noisy chatter you stole from us when you disappeared.