at a loss

the younger brother waits on the phone/for his older brother to find the word that is eluding him

and after a decent interval supplies the word in the form of a polite question: “whitewater?” “yeah…”

their conversation lurches here and there like a car/driven by someone learning stick shift

it gets smoother at the end with the manly I Love Yous and Keep Punching Buds that slide into well-worn conversational grooves

the younger brother pushes the red Off hangup icon but misses/and pushes again but before he does/he hears his older brother whimper eloquently

he hears frustration and loss in that untranscribable syllable/and more/he hears dim realization/that he is losing his mind a piece at a time/just like mom did

the younger brother feels a pang but does not whimper

not audibly