Keith R. Potempa

My brother is and always was story. He is lying through his teeth with every tale he tells but we lick it like sugar from his open hands, and know not what is fiction and what is truth. He holds power over every aspect of his story, even the sound of his voice. He throws us immediately into the tension of the scene. He surprises us with the twists at the end. He catches us right when we are drinking milk, and was somehow always able to force it back up, laughing, through our noses.