Drunk uncle sits manspread on the sofa, full glass in his hand. He is surrounded by family. It's a special day, his great step nephew's second birthday. So much reason to celebrate
-bring more wine.
The TV is begging for attention, but no one cares. It's a pacifier. Everyone is used to the noise. It's 11 am and he's three glasses deep. The joy of this day is overwhelming, intoxicating
-bring more wine.
Nieces rush with a bottle, stealing a little for themselves. He comments on clothing colour, race, and, of course, manliness-his overbearing posture displaying his own lack thereof
-bring more wine.
By cake time, he is asleep. Everyone tiptoeing around him, afraid to wake the sugar hungry beast. His illness makes him do things he shouldn't you know, it's the sugar. It's bad for him.
He is no longer with them. He is across the room as gifts are opened, birthday song is sung, but he is the one they think about.
One eye, always on drunk uncle, always
-bring more wine.
Karie W