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Family Pride
My dad likes to say “we’re blood”
Blood from the same source, the same place, we come from the same people on the same timeline
My dad who knows so much
That I forget he doesn’t know everything-
Who can tell me the history of the New York Mets but not how to spell
“separate”
My dad tells stories like they’re gospel and not just memories
Tales of his time
And the old days
Of my grandma making sauce over a stove
And my grandpa taking him to work on wall street
And our Family-
My sister
Acts like she’s above it, like she’s at a distance
Held out by the length of an arm
She sings and sings and acts and performs
Like Broadway is some place far away
And not just a toss away,
Close enough to stop by for dinner
I admire her
And her independence and her will to be free
But sometimes I wonder
Why she wants to sail away
My brother is a stone and a rock and a buoy
He bobs along our bay and doesn’t delve so deep,
What do I know?
Nothing that he doesn’t tell, and what can I know if he’ll only sometimes say
My father the story
My sister the song
My brother the secret
Our “blood”: My family,
My dad says we're blood
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