June 11, 1947 – April 10, 2003
We sat in the parking lot of Wine International.
You, Janice and me, reclining in the back of your VW bus.
Sharing a six pack of Henry Weinhardt.
It was my choice, and you indulged my juvenile taste.
You had just broken up with Pam,
The leggy blonde who towered over you.
My attempt to cheer you up was inane at best.
“I liked her” I chirped, “but she was way too tall for you.”
“No she wasn’t” you said with a raised eyebrow and salacious grin.
Classic Felix. The prince of dry wit and clever banter.
I attributed it to your love of literature.
Once when I was 15, you spied me reading The Grapes of Wrath.
“Steinbeck’s the man” you smiled.
“When you’re done with that, give this one a try”.
You tossed me a copy of Crime and Punishment.
“I’m reading for school, not because I WANT to”, I griped.
“You’re a fool” you said, as you frowned and walked away.
I love you and I miss you, big brother.
You checked-out far too early.
Not your style at all,
To leave the party early.
Ten years ago.
The same year mom died.
Shittiest year of my life.
If you were here, I would owe you an apology.
I never finished Madame Bovary.
I will though. I promise.