My Uncle joined the circus,
which is okay,
if you like that sort of thing.
that sort of thing really
like how lunchables creep me out.
They’re phony advertising,
if you ask me.
You expect a 3-course meal
and elephants that stand on
maybe with a
fat lady thrown in,
just for something extra.
But all you get are two thick slices
of bottle-cap sized baloney
sandwiched between crumbly crackers
with chocolate pudding on the side,
complete with a gray film
that melts on your tongue like fat.
You’re left with a synthetic taste in your mouth,
which just isn’t fair.
It’s not that I’m embarrassed of my Uncle.
he can’t help having two left feet
and a whopper of a head that looks like
a tea kettle.
But whenever I see him,
I feel like I’m looking at an
old piece of baloney that fell
between the seat on the
It makes me sick,
feeling this way,
because from what I’ve heard
he used to be normal,
with a lawn,
and a dog,
and taxes and stuff.
But then one day
the police accidentally shot his dog
and my uncle shaved his head,
and oh, man,
he saw how freaky it is,
and he went off the deep end
with the other packed lunches
who liked to think they were special,
but were really all the same.
I invited my friends to see him at the circus,
don’t know why I did, because
seeing him standing on an upside-down
garbage pail made me feel
And before I knew what was happening,
I was chucking popcorn and
at him from the top of the bleachers,
and I was screaming.
Well, I don’t even know what I was
or what anyone else was saying,
except that I will never forget the look on his
face when he saw it was me.
I felt like I was staring at a
moldering slice of
long-forgotten baloney that
only wanted to find its crumbly crackers again,
but couldn’t because the police were idiots,
and his barber insensitive,
just your average