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My oldest brother was born on this day

and to this day remains mostly a mystery

to the rest of us, all thoughts of a personal

nature stoppered up in a bottle kept in the

latched locked cupboard of his heart.

Why? I wonder.

He is like my mother in that way.

Or is it my father?  Or both?

While I pour out large glasses of myself

for others to consume.  Come, sip, tell me

what you think (but only if it’s nice).

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