I wear your likeness
Like a scapular
Around my neck.
Your mannerisms
Complete my mosaic.

From behind, we look
Like Jews' harps
Standing with
Hands hanging by
Thumbs in  pants pockets.
These familiar traits
Trickle down and sprout
Anew,
Like Granda, I hear.

Seeing you, one would think
Great thoughts fill your head,
As you stare
At the ***** garden.

My sibs **** their heads
And tsk too,  running
Their hands from front
To back
Through thick black hair.
I recoil at the drops of sweat
Falling from the tips of their
Noses.

Sarcasm drips like venom
From your words.
The cost of a glass of water,
Or a phone call,
Always
Had my friends laugh,
Nervously.
They never knew how
To take you.
I was surprised
By your grudging
Facade when help
Was asked.

I enjoyed your silence.
Even now,
As entropy
Has its way
With my garden.