Kyle Was Such a Nerd

He had a learning disability
but only enough to frustrate his coordination.
He was focused on mystical dragons
Conquering wicked magicians
Metallica, Megadeth, and grunge

Those assholes in middle school would beat him up
I wished I were his older brother
to protect him.
I was embarrassed of him

Joe was a jock in college
Athlete of the year
From a poor but hard working family
in Philly.
The nicest man I have known

They were arguing again
Kyle was so stubborn
Joe just didn't understand him
I couldn't recall ever hearing them yell that loud
At least they were upstairs

Someone started running down the stairs
It was my brother
his lanky frame, straining the steps,
gave the identity away.

Close behind came my father
Running irate
They came into the kitchen
I was stuffing my chubby, ten year old face
With a week old St. Patrick's Day cupcake

All of a sudden he turned
And lifted his right arm
If his neck hadn't popped like that
Kyle would have hit my dad in the face

He slumped to the ground
Paralyzed either by fear or pain
I don't know which
And then he started crying
His words still resonate in my head
"You don't know what it's like to be me dad, I have no friends."

stepping over a bum in the street

nails caked and cracked with dirt,
he sat on the comer of Misery and Death,
matted, beaver tail hair
joining at the ears with a wine stained beard.

the wind carried biting words
ripping flesh off his naked back
and the cold chewed on his black, frostbitten toes,
while the mouth of his torn shoes
yearned for something to eat.

a cardboard cup,
holding dead copper and silver presidents,
is fashioned from his single mattress,
where he dreams a dream of pain.

I step over a fresh mound,
where he finally sleeps,
in an urban grave.