It isn’t easy
being a twin.
Others considered us
as one two-part person,
while our parents saw,
in our conspiring,
four or more.
Born of one egg,
we yearned to be neither
a one nor a four so we fought
them and each other
to each be ourselves.
Even many years later as we began
the trip south to be with our father
we argued about which route to take,
where and when to break,
resigned to bicker all the way.
Pop, shriveled to half his former self
yet with unaltered mind,
alert, interested, uncomplaining.
We twins forgot our petty dueling
to measure lifelong memories in one last week with him.
At week’s end, he painfully pulled himself up
to wave a final goodbye from the door.
In the car, my brother, annoyed somehow,
started it up again.
I looked at my father
as if to say, “here we go again.”
Stooped, bright eyed
his knowing smile replied,
“it isn’t easy
being a twin.”
tony rounds Oct. 2009