Nelly [a memory]

I’m up on the counter,
one leg tucked beneath me, the other swinging,
not touching the floor by a mile.
 
My brother stands in front of the mirror, doing something,
it really doesn’t matter what, now
spiking his hair, perhaps (it was probably around his spiky hair phase)
or brushing his teeth, 
not shaving yet (he would have been much too young).
 
It feels now like I sat there for hours (it was probably only a few minutes),
the music pulsing around me
me, pretending to resent that he picked the music,
the way little sisters do, a little bratty, but maybe not as bratty as usual
because I’m having fun
 
my brother and me
belting out Nelly songs at the top of our lungs
 
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