We sky and stoop on a summer evening. We cool air in, full-bellied. We human sound on the way out. Way, way out. My brother tells me his dreams, too, and we wind, scenic, home. We all-day church, A & B selection swelling till we can’t hold it no more. We all the things we don’t say. We race downstairs for cake and punch and reflect our father’s eyes piercing from the wood-paneled walls.