Uncle Charlie sits at the back of our brains,
a Phil Spector haunting our memory
from the wall where he is projected
with his funny and menacing gun.
Some of us, this is all we have
of Uncle Charlie. We have Uncle Charlie
and a curtain of brunette hair brushing
the air, hiding what may be a smile.
A cigarette and a beer round out
our inventory: a cigarette and a beer
and a faded denim atmosphere
producing mystery, fun, and fear.
That's all the camera tells us,
and maybe that's all Uncle Charlie
wanted us to know: as his picture says,
he has ways of making us not talk.