Desperado

You better let
Somebody love you
Before it’s too late. The Eagles.

I heard you’re
working construction
in Wyoming,
my brother, my friend.

Living out of Dad’s
tattered suitcase
in some crappy motel
off Interstate 80–

the highway to heaven.
I suppose you’ll do what damage
you can there
and leave.

Sis often says
you are four parts charm
and one part cruelty.
How the women

loved you.
I don’t suppose
your next stop
will be home.

When I place a pebble
on mom and dad’s grave,
I always say it’s from you—
but I suspect they know better.

The misery you caused us
has mostly moved on
to a new generation—
a gift for the ages.

———-

My Older Brother

I am the outlaw’s brother
consigned to lead the pack mules
and watch the great train robberies
from a rise
half a mile behind the gang.

I am the younger brother
allowed to ride a tricycle
around a single city block.
When my brother helps me cross
the street, we don’t tell mom or dad.

At night I bed the horses.
light the fire, cook the meat.
Over coffee, the outlaws play
the music of the trail
as lonesome as an arctic moon.

I hear of my brother’s exploits
through the family’s worried whispers.
I know it’s bad when they switch to Yiddish,
or when some teenage ogres
wait for him with switchblades.

My brother and I watch Westerns
I like The Cisco Kid best.
I know I’ll never be Cisco
but perhaps I’ll grow up to be Pancho,
saddling Diablo and Loco, so we may ride
and ride and ride.

_______