I am from brotherly pinches, and pokes.
Taking miles from inches: a common parental croak.
Heads start to spin faster than soccer balls,
playfully thumping booms rattle our pictures on the wall.

Provoking comments, pleads of cessation,
thoughtful pleasantries generally met with brevity.
Despite the outbursts of frustration,
we’re thick with inarticulate, fraternal chemistry.

Finding confiscated toys with vigilance:
sneaking sleuthy smirks past our tired mother’s laundry pile.
Swelling waves of cognitive dissonance:
embarrassingly crash turbulence in the Target aisle.

From advice pertaining to Jills and Jacks,
from don’t-tell-mom’s, bruises, and covering troublesome tracks.
From brothers who know how to test all of the boundaries,
I am from sibling camaraderies.