Bob Is Your Uncle
I’m not sure you understand
what I’m trying to tell you.
That man in the armchair,
feet up, snoring softly,
the one you call your dad,
his name is Robert, so we
all call him Bob. It suits him.
Bob has three brothers.
The two you know, the two
who take you hunting and
tease you about your cowlick,
and one you don’t.
The one you don’t know
left town a while ago. Twelve
years and six months, but
who’s counting? Not me.
Anyway, it’s time you know,
time for you to know, whether
you want to know or not.
That man, Bob, is your uncle.
There. You have it.
