My brother, the dreamer of secret dreams,
 when this motel was fresh and new,
 walked with me down to the Coke machine,
 back to our room with a poolside view

Eyes closed, my neon lids show me
 my younger eyes alight beside
 a blue, cornflower blue sweet pool
 my lonely, lonely brother smiling, laughing —

My family, well-meaning and clothed in whispers,
 playing and growing in luxuries lost,
 luxuries lost, like my family itself,
 in the overgrown ruins of what once was