Eight tracks and underage,
hard rock for the teenage,
one summer eve, surrounded by kings.They rolled their tokes,
shared loose smokes,
and bragged, of sweetheart flings.I watched all night,
as they pal and fight.
Curse, and say foolish things.Like “Play it again.”
said my uncle to a friend,
as we sat, listening, to those guitar strings.
The Brothers
