I've spent the better part of the last month
trying to reconstruct our last night --
the last time that the five of us were together.
I want to box up the sound of our laughter
so loud that it was probably keeping my parents awake.
I want to tie it up with a bow
and keep it in my nightstand
for when the nights get longer and the songs get slower
and I can't remember how much taller you are than me anymore.
Three years ago, I called my brother while the four of you were together.
The phone was passed from ear to ear until it got to you.
Without missing a beat, you hung up on me...
and didn't answer when I called back.
I remember thinking that
I didn't know it was possible
for somebody to make you mad in a good way.