92 or My Brother's Michigan

I think I painted your face with mud on the lake. I was cold and scared. That is the truth of it. We were not a very good family then. At least, I don’t think so. Maybe those years are yours and they’re good for you. I was so scared. I slept in a bunk with some other kids. I never knew their names so I looked for my father. We caught fireflies like the family I thought we were. We went down a hill, I bruised up my thigh, learned what a charley horse was. My ribs showed, that’s what I think of now. It’s not funny. I want to laugh but it matters. All of it matters. Mountains blue in the distance, silence in the backseat. I wasn’t very good to you sometimes.