My Brother at the Master's

My Brother at the Masters

On my way to school this morning
I dreamed about my brother
Paul
At the Masters in Augusta, Georgia

Standing at the tournament ropes
Arms crossed
Brow knit
No sunglasses no golf hat
Intent without the façade of a smile

His head an inverted parabola
Perfect following through
Chasing the ball of Scotty Scheffler
Who is on his fantasy team
A very few words trade back and forth

Like handfuls of cool water on a hot day
To his doctor friend who joined him
He will call me
Sunday night late
He will call me

Quite late
With all the stories he has been
Storing
His anecdotes will flow very fast
Will spurt out

Like sheets of water from our backyard hose
On Ewing Street Back in Indianapolis
When we were little
Boys