New Year’s Eve, I swig champagne, relishing the elegant oval glass.
For a moment, I’m a dandy in a pinstripe suit, not an asshole in faded navy-blue sweatpants, courtesy of thrift shops.
Another swig.
I’m tsar of Russia, a diplomat, …
They pile us on a field. Try to identify us, contact loved ones.
I think of older sister Nancy.
She must be coming.
She could joke about my love of Polo shirts and say I love you. Call me …
When sister Nancy dies, people foist her voice.
Nancy would want you to be a lawyer, put aside fantasy.
Nancy was soft. Why can’t you control your temper?
What they don’t say: Nancy loved cruising through wealthy neighborhoods blasting Elvis. …