Uncle Charlie

(from Notes Towards a Poem about Play Running the Goat Books and Broadsides 2009)

Last Sunday, while strolling through Knightsbridge Zoo, I recognized my uncle Charlie
in one of the monkey cages. I stared at him for a long time, dumbstruck, but I was not
mistaken. It was quite the acting job; he never faltered once. Naturally hairy, he had
been an actor in his younger years and now it looked as though he’d found a role that
fitted him like a made-to-measure suit. This was the first time anyone in our family had
laid eyes on him in over three years. We all assumed he had fallen off the wagon once
again or shipped aboard some freighter headed south. But here he was, crouched in a
corner, thoughtfully considering the peeled remains of a blood orange while an orangutan
systematically went through the thick hair on his back looking for lice, pausing from time
to time when she found one to examine it intently.

Well, we all end up somewhere, I thought to myself, and this is a damned sight better
than a few of the places uncle Charlie could have ended up. Still, it put me in a bit of a
quandary as to whether I should report it to the family or not. It had its good and its
bad sides and feelings could run either way. Plus, there was his own privacy to respect.
This was probably the first stability he’d known in years, since Aunt Viv had left him for
a younger man, and I hated to ruin it for him. He obviously didn’t want it known or he
would have come over right away, as he usually did, and tried to borrow a fiver.

I gestured and he continued to ignore me although I was certain he’d seen me. I had an
idea. I took a ten dollar bill from my wallet, braided it through the wire of the cage, then
went and hid in some bushes close by. Sure enough, as soon as I was gone, he looked
around, slinked over and claimed it. I’d never known old Charl to pass up a tenner. As
soon as he turned, I leaped from the bushes and yelled “Aha!”

A large woman pulled her child closer to her. An elderly man who was going through a
garbage can shook his head. A guard paused and gave me a suspicious look. And uncle
Charlie let out a blood-curdling shriek and flew up arm over arm into the highest reaches
of his new home.