You are non-existent,
Never there,
just like your hair
that has come off strand by strand
by every decision you make,
even if that just be
deciding the icing for your cake.
You are untrammelled.
But that's you,
living for yourself,
And no one else.

Still I see no better uncle,
than one that won't yell
if you mumble;
won't arrange for your hearse
if you curse.
Free spirited,
That's what you are,
And I wouldn't change a thing,
even your breath that smells of tar.