Ode to My Brother Half-drunk upon the chipped white hood of our           Toyota, toasting the lowdown Milky Way, Since no one understands me but my brother.           We swore that we would never fade away, Never burn out, unless I grow false to thee.           Nailed down to that white car: "The Wildwood Flower" Smeared all around my crown of sin like a sea           Palmed off the past, thrown down like a Nine. My brother Grown false like Bibles and an illustration           Cut to the grain of ancient women, charcoal           And sharkskin shirts, the underground nation Of wandering boys, stars dropped from mirror and bowl,           Strange meteorites, the deep pool hall confusion–           Dealer, bouncer, the old South Jersey roll.