Ray

I don't say hi 

I know he doesn't remember me and 

It's ok 

It was over a drink when I said hello 

and my little brother says he comes there 

Religiously 

Ever single day

To hover over a scotch or a tequila 

Shoulders watching the room

The lapping dark hair falling loosely at his shoulders 

There is something there 

A poet or a musician 

Cradled in his fingers begging to be let out 

I've seen him rescue a bouquet of flowers twice now

Once, he ran after them 

His thick glasses rattling on the bridge of his nose 

He took them 

Even the drooping ones 

And stuck them in water 

Hopeful he'd get to squeeze a bit more color out of them