To My Cousin

by god i thought that you would break the chains

of caramel binding—perhaps not break them

but rather use them, wrap them around the pale necks of men

who looked down at us and then tried to pick us up

with the almighty dollar; you and i were going to laugh

in their faces, hold them down and teach their children

how to keep their guilt in their wallets.

you and i were going to take this town in our hands

and feel the buildings crumble in our palms—

we were going to feast on autumn leaves and concrete

and wash it all down with the blood of those who used our grandfather

to build their empires; we were going to don

our swords and shields (bearing the image of the Vijen)

and down their walls brick by pressing brick;

it was our turn to be the Conquistadors.

i prepared to hoist a cup overflowing with brew with you;

we would drink to our conquest of things that were

unobtainable to us before—unobtainable to our mothers

and fathers because they felt the need to bow down

to the desires of those above us and use babies

to weigh themselves down; you and i would get drunk

on power and dreams, on desires and glory—

our own, not our mothers and fathers.

life threw you a bone and you choked.