my uncle

My uncle kept house in the fashion of a serial killer

Rooms full of valves in boxes like excised organs

A monkey puzzle tree casting shadows on the half landing

soldering irons laid out like spoons

After my grandmother died I went from room to room searching for just one body but never uncovered anything much beyond those valves

a partially eaten lunch in a speaker cabinet

A newspaper:

The local hoodlums tooled up under Young Bundy mob handed with hatchets, knives boys as old as twenty as young as twelve

A murder

My uncle wanted none of it, he dressed like a Ted

sunglasses, hipster goatee

A loner in all ways aloof and hunched behind the wheel of his van

A Ford, of course, reliable unremarkable as bread

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