Sister
Don't let that flying bag full of ****** and tobacco inject you into his veins
On nights you'd rather spend in your old room
Or with your only three friends (your siblings)

Don't let that flying bag full of knowledge and rudeness hold you back from coming here
To see the only people you truly call "home"

Cousin*
Your hair looks nice
The way it used to before you flew away
Please don't work there
You belong doing hair
You looked at that man, the one your sisters age
Don't sit by him, tomorrow he will be gone
You won't find love in temporary things
You need help

Grandad
You sit there, in your almost vegetative state
Next to the woman who claimed you many years ago, but not soon enough
You no longer have your kids
Not even the grandkids, who were sheltered from the truth  

Your alternate family in Virginia
How can you still look at your kids in the eye?
How can they still speak to you?
They did it for the kids

Towards the end of your life, the truth is known
You still smile, never doing any wrong
You just want regularity and happiness
Win us over with your money
I still want to be near you,
Maybe I will be just like you*

Aunt
So happy, so bright
You sit with us
And laugh through the night
You've had just enough beers
Your husband has forgotten you
But you're still full of cheers

I watched you all
From when I was small
Growing up, getting tall

You don't recognize me
But I know you
I see you still living in this same town
Itching to get out
Using liquor and beer to escape from your sad lives
And hometown cries
Wanting to go back to when things were:

Belly button rings,
Home phone calls,
Abusing ducks on your retreat

You ask "why do we stay here?"
Because everyone has that one good year
Everyone tries to get back to that one good year
Tries to hold on to the memories of that one good year

We stick around for those small glimpses of what life was
Burying the time capsule by the rail road

Trying to clear my mind*
Put on a show for the adults
Its your uncle's celebratory bar tending fund raiser


First, I look up to find the vultures who stole you,

My little goose
So bright
Swooped up by claws
Bound for America

They keep you locked in a cage
Watching your every move
Depriving you
Threatening you

My goose, my first friend,
Once happy near the crab apple tree
Now broken and abused in solitary
I am the only one who knows


Second, I shake hands with the drunken politician spewing words at me:  

"Play a lot of golf because when you are a business man you make a lot of money, that's the name of the game"

I am sure he said the same thing to his daughter
Who was also stolen from her country

Her slanted eyes always painted half silver, half black
Knowing people will remember her

Rewards to her
Floating through crowds at concerts
Traveling the world

I'd like to strangle men like him
I'd rather die than get a job, be a business man and make money


Third, I see the familiar face of a man who I've known most of my life

The space between his nose and mouth reminds me of your's
I've always looked up to him
Mainly because he is a runner
He fixes my cars and probably plays guitars

"Did you hear about Maxx's dad?"
Poor Maxx, broken minded
Head not ******* on right
Throwing fits
Playing with gems in stalls
Never polite
No amount of crystal rock will replace his loving father