Sometimes, he would
stumble home
eyes bloodshot,
smelling of beer
and sweat
and stale cigarettes
slurring his words
beyond the point of c o m p r e h e n s i o n
But the one thing,
the one thing
that never changed
was that he was
an alcoholic
and my brother
Other times, he would
find his way back
hop into bed,
and
f
a
l
l
straight asleep
from the euphoria
of the hops
But the one thing
that never changed
was that
he was
an alcoholic
and my brother
Once in a while, he would
waddle home,
cheeks flushed,
smiling,
and proclaiming
that he would buy our mom and dad a house
telling my younger brother to stay in school
But, the one thing
that never changed,
that never changed,
he was an alcoholic
and my brother
Sometimes,
he would not
come home at all
but the phone would ring
interrupting the dead silence
of the quiet night
and my shaky sleep
telling us he was behind bars
and not in a bar
or in the confines of a hospital bed
But, the one thing
that never changed
was that he was
an alcoholic,
and
my brother
On occasion, he would
come home
sober,
clear-eyed
and tired
not from the alcohol
but from the hardships of the day
But the one thing
that never changed
was that
he was my brother,
an alcoholic