9440. MY UNCLE SAID

MY UNCLE SAID

My uncle said to me, 'You are full of

pain.' We were driving in his Chevrolet,

a new, company-supplied Impala, about

1966. I didn't say anything back, yet

I knew he was probably right.

-

I suppose it was a good intention 

that made him say that; even though 

he was usually pretty angry and harsh. 

But, if it brought to him some satisfaction,

I guessed I didn't mind, and I'd survive. 

I just didn't know why it always had

to be me who was born the martyr.

-

I could have turned on him, grabbed

the wheel and crashed us into a tree or

a guardrail, after smashing his foot 

down on the gas for a high-speed crash.

What could he do about it? In reality,

he was just as much my captive too.

-

There were ten or so years, back then, 

I didn't care to go living on; just wasn't

man enough to do it to myself. Yeah, you

get like that around the magic lights of

singular space and time  -  when you're

that different that the whole world mauls

you, twists and ruins everything up.

-

It's a certain form of speechlessness that

takes over - just nothing worth saying or

talking about, everything is dead or dying

or Death itself already. Who wants to live

in a swamp like that, especially being 16

or so and full of life in so many other 

ways. Destiny and fate together; they

conspire, and they really suck.

-

I wanted to just walk off, after calling him

a jerk. But I couldn't  -  there's always a

certain level of respect that stays in place,

even though he wasn't blood or anything to

me; just a guy who married in by marrying

one of my crazy, ridiculous aunts. Nothing

to do; the type of thing you stay with.

-

I've always wanted to just stop things, and

sit people down and really talk  -  not just 

talk, but level with them. Past all niceties

and manners  -  about the meanings of life 

and time and matter and being. Yes, I know

all that stuff. I come from another place, 

and those answers are built right in, all

'hardwired' as you guys now would say.