Accidental Intruder

I must have dropped into my brother's life like some unwelcome package,
A swaddled stray, splitting air with wails.

He was,
Quiet, sensitive,
And I was pedal on gas.

I demanded attention.
I was Grandpa's Cleopatra, and my Father's flamenco dancer,
stomping, and twirling through the house to his pounding guitar.

It must have seemed to my brother that I swallowed up all the affection,
And left no bones for him.

The burden shifted the day my Mother told me the school psychologist had called a meeting.
His advise to my Father,
Show some affection towards your son.

Ahhh, but Mr. PhD man,
didn't you know that Macho men don't dote on little boys?

We remain cultural spoils, you and I, my brother.
Victims of unresolved resentment.
If I had known,
if I could have,
I would have gladly traded some of their love for yours.