The Favorite Twin
You laugh at me when you spot me
sitting in the kitchen, alone, trying to balance
a Styrofoam plate on my lap
And cursing that I’ve spilled
some gravy on my new pants.
You jokingly state that no one must like me (smile),
And then turn away to go in the living room,
Where everyone else is sitting.
I’m weary from the invented new person
I try to become just for the evening
to make myself more appealing.
It doesn’t work.
Family gatherings make my head hurt.
I pretend it doesn’t bother me, as we all watch
You unwrap a cheap, funny gift they bought you –
Wrapped in blue birthday paper that’s surprisingly loud,
and everyone but me giggles.
It wasn’t supposed to be a birthday party,
But, since you were here, they brought your gift.
It’s been like this forever.
Rudely, they have always seemed to
conveniently forget that your twin is watching,
alone in the kitchen,
cursing
that I’ve spilled a tear on my new pants.
Copyright © Marco Borda | Year Posted 2007
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