My Uncle Robert (said my dad),
now he was somethin!
Knew words, could
convince you of anything.
Helped me with that prize I won
in fourth grade–
to tell the truth, he wrote prid’near wrote
the whole thing.
He had a phonograph with a big horn
and he used to sit out on his porch,
play it so loud you heard it
all up and down the street.
All the pretty girls would listen
at their windows, behind
their screen doors.
They’d just been waitin’ for him
to start up that record machine.
He was an inventor, too. Had
a working radio
and a telescope for seeing stars.
He’d invite the neighborhood ladies to take a look–
‘course you have to lie down in the grass
with me to do it right!
(He got some takers, too.)
Generations of Poetry, April 2011