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Unlce Ray
on the way to work I saw this middle-aged black guy on the side of the road, the kind of fella that is undoubtedly somebody's uncle. We'll call him uncle ray. Uncle Ray was a wiry guy with needy movements. He wore dirty jeans, a hand-me-down t-shirt, and big red trucker ballcap (the kind of hat that increases the height of your head by 30%). Uncle Ray was just chilling down there at the side of the road, one foot comfortably propped up on a manhole cover, enjoying the sights of a man-made (storm drain) stream. For awhile it looked as though Uncle Ray was taking photos of the placid piece of nature, but as I my car got closer I realized that it was not a camera he was holding up to his head at all, but rather a can of beer. And apon that manhole cover by his resting foot sat a 24pak of red dawg beer.
Uncle Ray turned his head to briefly acknowledge my car, the beer can and his lips hovering around each other like lovers coming up for air, and then he shyly and awkwardly turned back to his storm drain solace. The reality of my car nothing more than a fragmented whisper on the outskirts of his land of man-made nature and alcohol.
I was unprepared for such a sight. It made me happy. Happy like a reunion episode of Saved By The Bell, you know right away that its a bad idea but you go on ahead and enjoy it anyway. I wanna be that bold at 8 in the morning, I wanted to be on the other side of my car. Uncle Ray, I need men like you at my funeral. with your 24 pack of red dawg and your positions of comfort. a man like you wouldn't leave flowers on my tombstone, a man like you would leave me a full can of beer.
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