I never knew his real name as a child in Newark
But named him Uncle Funky the peanut man while he sold peanuts
from a makeshift stand, now on this June 2013 morning
My mind opens the door of youthful memory
I can see soiled pants and shirt,an old battered hat  covering gray uncut hair and brown hands waiting for a dollar for his peanuts
Funk clung to his skin like fleas to a dog
And just one whiff released would stagger a young boxer in his prime
The times changed with the town sweeping Uncle Funky away with
yesterday and the past like old news
And I wonder and it isn't a very pleansant wonder
Whatever became of Uncle Funky the peanut man?