Chameleon Johnny

          Likelike, town bound, Uncle always on the shoulder searching with broken limb. He is spider-thin in loose fabric. His moustache wears his face like his hair, thick with sweat.

          We joke about his origins as if he were some newborn myth. Give him names. Give him life. I heard from a friend of mine who works at American Savings, who knows the teller that handles his accounts. You wouldn’t believe the withdrawals.

          Every day, searching. No car. No cage. Likelike, Kane`ohe Bound, I thought I saw him in the trees. Creeping across the branches, hand over hand, hiding his tail.

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