Thanksgiving

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Because we are eight years old
We are hitting each other
on the road to Fort Stockton
- an hour into the all day drive.
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When I open the map
it rips, loudly
and he gasps, loudly
like his mother.

I am cackling, but
he doesn't like to be hilarious.
He reaches out to tickle me, but
it is more of a clawing rib separator.

It hurts, and so
I punch him in the arm.
He punches back, hard.
I punch him twice.

There is a loud protesting truce.
"You hit me!" I say.
"You hit me twice!"he says.
I explain my math.

I hit you twice because you
hit much harder than I do.
He tells me "You hit a lot
harder than you think."

Later, I'll offer to strangle him
with my peace necklace.