Uncle Jay

it was a long time ago.
my brother said that his head had been flattened with a shovel and that from chin to scalp, when they found him his head was nearly three feet long
he used to call me faggot before i even knew what a fucking fag was
god damn i hated him
he was my mom's youngest brother
he was a big Kiss fan
i can still see him sticking his tongue out like gene simmons
what a dick
my mom would get mad at me if i didnt call him uncle jay
he'd wait for her to turn her back and then make that universal bend of the wrist sign for homo
i guess i was a real homo when i was seven
he'd stashed a suitcase full of cocaine in my parent's attic
my mom found it
walked to the creek out back and emptied it into the slow stream of bad decisions
the decision that got my uncle jay killed
the decision that gorged her heart mercilessly at his funeral
forcing her to remember his toe head and jagged eight year-old smile
the decision that she stumped out like a cigarette and tossed onto a gravel driveway