july

we always fought for mom's favoritest
and between us 3, we knew my brother was out;
it was either her or me.

i didn't have to cross my fingers
i was the youngest, clearly the specialest
and she was just a middle child

in a couple years, i pulled
her fishnet shirt over my head.
i convinced myself that i was her.

maybe she was the favoritest after all
since she got to leave, make such a big scene
but not for long - all the screaming,

the eavesdropping, the heavy metal -
it all fell silent. you couldn't hear
a damn thing. and in the silence

and the heat of her bedroom,
the posters peeling off the silent walls
forming the same small closet she begged

to trade me for, i realize
i guess i won after all.
this is what i wanted,

what we competed for.
it's what i wanted.
isn't it what i wanted?