My uncle.
I didn't grow up with him, anything but a word, Uncle Mark, The Brabwire Kid, Alcoholic. I met him one, maybe two times as a kid. Mark, like a bad word, something not to be spoken in the good company of Nana, Grandpa, my parents, the disjoined unity that taught me not to rock the fucking boat. The nucleus that taught me about shame, guilt, secrets, lies, absence. He was the OTHER brother. The one my mom fucked before she met my dad. Some cosmic fellow in the bar, honkey tonk, saloon, rodeo cowboy. A black Stetson, and a big trophy buckle, Wranglers tucked into boots, swaying to a sad Patsy Cline song, bony hip against a juke box. Swaying, Hat cocked to the side, Soulful, Cowboy prodigy. My Uncle.
I didn't grow up with him, anything but a word, Uncle Mark, The Brabwire Kid, Alcoholic. I met him one, maybe two times as a kid. Mark, like a bad word, something not to be spoken in the good company of Nana, Grandpa, my parents, the disjoined unity that taught me not to rock the fucking boat. The nucleus that taught me about shame, guilt, secrets, lies, absence. He was the OTHER brother. The one my mom fucked before she met my dad. Some cosmic fellow in the bar, honkey tonk, saloon, rodeo cowboy. A black Stetson, and a big trophy buckle, Wranglers tucked into boots, swaying to a sad Patsy Cline song, bony hip against a juke box. Swaying, Hat cocked to the side, Soulful, Cowboy prodigy. My Uncle.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
lzim:
not just insanely sensual but conscious and deep too? color me intrigued.
lolitasordid:
lol
lol