Do you want to invite Uncle steven to breakfast ? No.
He’s kind of weird

Steven was really tall
And had really big hands with blunt nails And I was really short
So he was a bit intimidating

He wore big round framed glasses
And he dressed in really muted boring clothes
And he smelled faintly of something you couldn’t quite put your finger on So I thought he was a kind of weird

I didn’t know
I couldn’t know

See when I was little I woke up early
And my daddy ever the insomniac
Would pile us two into the car
And off we went from Brooklyn Heights
And sometimes we would stop by his brownstone And we would go

Sometimes Uncle Philip would come too Off to get breakfast
In a noisy brightly lit diner somewhere

Let her get the French Toast He’d say
Its the best thing on the menu

I would smile French Toast Syrup
Sugar

It was my favorite too

It was such a small role
The most minimal role of anyone I even knew back way when Breakfast Buddies I suppose

They came for some holidays Uncle Philip and Uncle Steven

He was sweet
He was quiet
He gave terrible gifts

But it was all good

Because they were so nice

“ Good Morning.”
“ Aviva you look younger every time I see you”

“ Happy Hanukkah ! ”

“ Happy Thanksgiving ! ”

“ How are you doing, Lauren ?”

A thinned lipped, slightly yellowed denture smile accompanying every word

Lauren, Sweetie
Sweetie, that word is ridiculously ominous isn’t

Lauren, Sweetie we have to tell you something What ?
Uncle Steven is in a coma
Well, Its okay he’ll get better.

A white cloth was laid over him
An itchy cotton, that he couldn't feel Because he didn't get better

Poor Uncle Philip
I thought through my bleary eyed woes

No more breakfasts With French Toast And Uncle Steven

A part of my childhood forever gone A part of my family forever gone

And before I even really knew him

Before I could have know
That I really really wanted to say Yes

That last time