Gemini twin sister stars. Harry Potter wands have sister cores, related by some elemental similarity; hereditary. My mom and her two sisters. I am a sister but have never been a sister to someone else – perhaps in the friendship sense, but not in the family/biological sense. I wonder how I would have differed from myself now if I had had a sister. Birthday party balloons, pink and yellow. Keep on going. Motivational runners spring, sprint. Right up against the heart of things. Pink bow. Sister bear, baby bear. Berenstain Bears. Baby Kate from Arthur, and D.W. for that matter. Old PBS television shoes, shows I miss. Old Macintosh computer games that I can only relive by watching walkthroughs online. Skimming through them anyway. So much of my memory from childhood gets jogged when I do that. Plastic ‘Made In China’ figurines that must now be in the trash, collected dust, or melted into some strange plastic wax. Lost forever, somehow. Misanthrope polyester noon singing softly into a blanket that holds a girl. Lying lilac paint chips, stowing away the marble memory incarnalized, entombed in psyche. It misunderstands the rest of it. Lying close at the base, at the foot of my rival. Peering with wide eyes downcast from an ivory tower balcony to the neat and manicured terrace. Footfalls drop softly like they’re in socks.

Author: Roe

she/her. Songwriter & Trek Punk Soul™.

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