at the subway
Let me tell you ‘bout the subway.
And smelled like old fart.
And had people wearing hats and coats and pushing each other around. “Outta my way!”
Mamaw held me close to her, like I’m five.
Then when Papaw waved his hand, and Mamaw smiled and waved too. I felt left out.
Because I couldn’t see him.
And tried to find what they were so excited about.
Then I caught a glimpse of dirty brown hair and a grin and a straight nose and a cigarette hanging from a pink mouth.
A bit old and a bit young.
He tore through the crowd like a hurricane.
I froze like one of those mannequin Mamaw pinned up at the town old clothes shop.
And my heart hee-hawed like the horses we had at our home.
Eric grinned and took my father in a big ‘ole hug.
Now that he was nearer, he was old.
But...we were gaps a part.
I love men with pot bellies. Eric has/had no pot belly. He didn’t drive a truck. He had on a wife-beater and smoked but I had to wait ‘till we get back to know if he liked dogs.
Then when he greeted Mamaw, I shyly swung from left to right.
Mamaw came alive when they hugged. She looked like a red rose.
And I knew then, he was no Uncle.
They just called him that.
Then his eyes settled on me.
Eric grinned wide: “who’s this?”
Before I can say a thing, Mamaw said: “Joelene. Don’t remember her?”
“Of course I do,” Eric said with this cute smile, “she got so big.”
He eyed me from head to toe.
Eyes fixed on my titties for too long.
And I thank God I started blooming from seventh grade.
“Know me?” I raised a brow.
Uncle Eric just grinned wider. “Of course I do.”
“How?” I squinted my eyes from the late morning sun.
“He came to look for us some years ago. You were a baby then. He and I was just finishing high school.” Papaw said, gleaming with pride.
“Oh.” Was all I said, but Eric kept looking and looking and looking.
Then Mamaw ruined everything when she said: “time to get back.”
And I knew things would start from there...
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