Falling Meteors

This guy was my brother

From a totally different mother!

As Justin Warner used to say,

We joked and laughed the nights away.

Back when I ran a pizza place,

“Albany Gourmet” — my little space,

Right here in downtown T.O. town,
Where dreams look up, but rent won't down.

My world was barely one square meter,

(What a title! I’ll call it One Square Meter.)

I talked of girls, and sports, and lore,

Of poems, stories — always more.

We cheered for fights, for Cena’s might,

UFC on Saturday night.

The Leafs, the Raps, we watched them all,

With late-night pizza and late-night calls.

Justin lived just down the street,

He’d swing by late for something to eat.

He read my stories, line by line,

Fixing grammar every time.

He gave me hope, he gave me grace.

Taught me to see the human race.

In every skin, a soul to see —

He truly brought the best in me.

My brother, though by blood not tied,

He stood so closely by my side.

“Our dad was quite the flirt!” we’d tease,

“Our births? The product of his sleaze!”

That joke, it made us laugh so loud,

Two misfit sons — unbowed, unproud.

But bonded in a deeper way,

In heart, in spirit — day by day.

Until the tumor came, so cruel,

It broke the bond, rewrote the rule.

Now he’s a ghost on Facebook’s wall,

But in my heart, he stands so tall.

My third eye — I lost it then,

I’ll never see through him again.

But his mom? She’s now my friend,

And watches me until the end.

So here’s to you, my brother, my guide,

With you, a part of me has died.

But every time I look above,

I feel your presence, feel your love.

From a different mother, that was true —

But, Justin, I was born through you.