Uncle Who?

He sits at the computer,
as he’s been for hours.
Fat, stubby fingers
greedily press the keys.
Smoke clings to his hairs,
his nails are yellowed.
Sausages direct the mouse
to control his avatar on screen.
The screen flashes colors,
he’s killed a monster in Runescape.
And I want ask him,
“Why? Why do you never

Want to hang with your family?
Ask about my day?
Play on game night?”

But I don’t,
too afraid of my uncle’s answer.

Instead I ask,
“How many levels did you get today?”
His response,
“Stop bugging me.”