Juli Freda Poet Free verse

Uncle Ted's House

I hated going to Uncle Ted's house,
he'd sit outside, shine in a jar,
talking, talking, talking to
his friends.  They'd talk so
dirty the air would blush,
and keep right on into
the night, never caring we
were there.  My mother would
nod and roll her eyes
as a signal that THOSE
were the words I couldn't say.
I hated sitting on the broken
swing, listening to them
repeat themselves for hours, 
as if the story told THIS
time was funny.  Aunt Rose
would bring us sweet tea,
chilled with gigantic ice
cubes taking up the whole glass,
sweat pouring down the sides
and dripping on our shorts.
I hated waiting for the 
family to get done with the 
gossip, important information
my mother would call it,
the only information Aunt
Rose could ensure would keep
her justification to be called
the town mouth, know it all.
We kids sassed at her title
when we thought she couldn't hear.
I hated walking back home,
full belly, new swear words
in my head, all the latest gossip
in my ears, and a loneliness
in my soul.  We should live closer,
I cry out, visit more often, I say,
my brother moans, because even
though we hate the pieces, the
whole picture is the best family
and friends anyone could have.

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