Andy
That grey day it was raining on the cobblestones of Oxford
We hugged and kissed my brother before he stepped on the bus
His long hair and blue corduroy jacket
and all his worldly goods in a duffle bag
Off to Spain and the rest of his life
We stood silently after the bus, and he, had left our sight
And our lives, knowing it would never be the same
That by any definition we were now three, plus one in Spain.
Dad suggested fish and chips for lunch and we tried to be
cheerful
As the mugs of steaming tea fogged the café window while
People outside were shopping, their lives having not taken
Any irrevocable turns today.
That summer came photos falling out of letters sent with
foreign stamps.
Of a sunlit
apartment, a beach, blue sea, a pretty girl.
Then the news we already knew – they had decided to marry
Mum cried and Dad tried hard not to.
And they decided to be happy for him.
And he wrote I could have his guitar if I wanted it.
Which I didn’t, because it was his stupid guitar.
And anyway, he was too dumb to know I’d already bought one.
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