u/wecantalklater

It started at your grandmother's.

Every time I spoke, it felt

like a kind return of steel wool in the soft bits of my ears.

Her translator kept pissing me off,

kept cutting me off.

I didn’t like the green glass plates we used for dinner, apparently.

I wondered where you were

I argued for my spot in the race,

only to find you playing outside

some sick game on the 100-acre land.

You were getting disabled high schoolers stoned,

giving them rotisserie chickens,

aluminum foil, and chainsaws.

When I touched the lawn,

I was smacked, covered in grease,

shirt torn, body exposed to the wind,

taunted with death and hysteria.

We ran, cackling wildly as a pack.

I bolted for the safe zone

you had appointed in the sand traps and shrubs.

You found the newest way to repulse me,

and you laughed and laughed

as I started to recall

the baton you had accepted

at graduation

Grandma's favorite little boy.