Round the Block Again

A stranger's car parked where my truck used to be.
I slow down just enough to see the upstairs light,
Then I gas it on.
Phone sits on the dash, his name right there.
Thumb hovers, then I fold it back and drive.
Every night the road, every night I turn away.
Round the block again, meter running on my pride.
Little brother on the other side, and I keep driving by.
Say I'm sorry, let the word come off my tongue,
But I turn the wheel and the word stays locked and the years roll on.
He was the one who carried my bag up the hill when I was small.
He took the blame for the broken fence and never once said my name.