Vicki Miko

Uncle Lenny

My Uncle Lenny almost died next to the Out of Order vending machine at North Commons pier—my first trauma as a kid. It was the end of the season with few passersby. The way Uncle Lenny liked it, not one to get in the way, he’d say. The concession stand was Closed. Two crows on the gate cawed and bowed at Uncle Lenny’s slumpy body on the sticky cement. I started to cry. Mom squeezed my hand and pulled me close. Side by side we kneeled down next to him, she lifted his head to her lap, “Someone is coming, Lenny, we’ll get someone to help, we love you.” I squeezed his hand, he squeezed back, it was warm, “Don’t worry Uncle Lenny, don’t worry, please don’t worry.” Ants came, and they stung my ankles.
 
There was that man—standing there—his crooked accordion hanging on his sunken chest. A green ring flashed on his pinky when he shifted his weight, I heard a wheezy sound. He grinned like a painted clown with ugly teeth. He mumbled something, Mom held up some dollars, “Can you find someone for us, please, sir?” He pinched the dollars between his yellow fingernails and nodded. My head pounded thick. The quick people came and took Uncle Lenny away in a big white truck. Mom said he was going home. I wanted to go home.

what if he opened his eyes
I wished hard
the lemon Life Saver 
dropped out of my mouth
and rolled under the bench

a man in a bowtie
smiled like that man
on the pier
he gave me a folded card
with a picture of Jesus in the sky

calm inside
the giant long jewelry box
he would have laughed
and said something funny
I’m cozy here

---

About the Author

Vicki Miko is a retired television producer and a published illustrator/photographer. She was introduced to haiku in a meditation class. For her, haiku is paying attention and always keeping a little place for haiku notes. Vicki loves everything haiku and is inspired by the haiku community.