Luey, where are you going?
I see you've packed your things:
cigarettes, cologne, and cough drops.
A razor and romantic songs.

Coming down the stairs,
clean-shaven mug, and gel in hair.
You ask dad to take you
to the airport where you meet Drew,
organize, and head out towards the sky.

To see your girl
and she, her guy.
And in the kitchen Drew eats pie,
so much that he must
conjure up a lie.

Luey, I think about you
twice a week
and write this poem
so you may see
the time we spend
means more to me
than juicy burgers
with melted cheese.

I cannot end without saying
that lately you have been displaying
subtle love that's just as deep
as any other.

I love you,
my brother.