Ode to My Brother

Half-drunk upon the chipped white hood of our
          Toyota, toasting the lowdown Milky Way,
Since no one understands me but my brother.
          We swore that we would never fade away,

Never burn out, unless I grow false to thee.
          Nailed down to that white car: "The Wildwood Flower"
Smeared all around my crown of sin like a sea
          Palmed off the past, thrown down like a Nine. My brother

Grown false like Bibles and an illustration
          Cut to the grain of ancient women, charcoal
          And sharkskin shirts, the underground nation

Of wandering boys, stars dropped from mirror and bowl,
          Strange meteorites, the deep pool hall confusion–
          Dealer, bouncer, the old South Jersey roll.