It's not that we were poor. I don't mean the patched knees—
blue meant me and you got green, which I understand now
was yet another case of identity being dictated by chance
and money. Matching hair too, a couple of English china bowls
perched on top of oblivious brooms, a good magic trick
if you ever learn the secret. We'd get toys when appropriate,
two of each so we'd both get one, which said a lot about
the value of being the same, fair's fair and all, but not much
about sharing. It's just there weren't always enough words
to scrape across our bread, enough hours to balance out
the one computer we both wanted the most, enough people to pair
with all the stick-figure family decals on the back of the van,
enough years to put a white chalk line between your stuff
and mine, enough time to grow us into human beings.
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