I’m telling. You could hardly tell us
apart. We looked identical. Hey twin.
Picked last like the worst fruit
we stood in back the tallest split
to different teams. I’m falling apart.
Old shale buckling above a volcanic
cellar. Sharecropper miner of sedimentary
slag. Slate chattering down my side.
I’m a late bloomer obsidian finally
glassing my station. Bonafide. Hedge
out of the roundhouse low squat with
a loco motive. Out of our munificence
we have given you a childhood to earn,
to fail minima cum laude. I am bored mortar
to fly my parent’s pennants in, my
magma charta bumps as it cools, a driveway
they can park their chrysler on.