Uncle Joe · Glass · Adjustment

dark and affected, his left side numb from stroke
he stumbles into my room with the smell of tequila

strong on his breath, it seeps from his skin under the
stained shirt he wears over his thick frame, another

night alone in the house with my good ol uncle joe
he stands in my room and demands that I get my

lazy ass up to face him like a man, like a real man
and even though I am four inches taller than he is

there is still something I am expected to prove
here in my own room, which he reminds me is in

his house which he pays for with his bus driver job
so I stand to face him like a man, like a real man

and apparently as a demonstration of his strength
he pushes me back against the wall as hard as he can

which is pretty damn hard, and I stumble and fall
just in time to miss the fist that crashes into the wall

above my head, sending down bits of plaster
like a dry snow falling in the middle of the desert

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