The BUCK stops WHERE? Part.01

A recent story by Bob Buckeye of Middlebury, VT.

Buckeye links:

http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_hb3544/is_200203/ai_n8361544

http://lakewoodobserver.com/home.php?which=columns&col=14



At Columbia, a sea of expectant faces, the country of the young.
by Robert Buckeye

This hour contained all our hours. Boston in 1775, the Continental Congress in Philadelphia, John Brown at Martin’s Ferry, Haymarket, Lawrence 1912, Debs running for President from prison, the Abraham Lincoln Brigade, Birmingham, the Port Huron Statement, the marches on Washington, always the marches on Washington, still the marches on Washington.

We put an ear to the tracks. We saw the future.

The train came around the bend and there was no mistaking the engineer.
At every crossing, its whistle warned everyone to stand back. It was coming through.
It has not ceased to come through.

If you move your hand, their eyes follow. If you sit at their table, you break their bread.
If you say something
Those spit out, broken down, given up, come back inside.

Jake, Gayle said, I need you. I need to escape my past. When my uncle ran his hand slowly down my back. Slow. He was so slow. I wanted him to hurry. I wanted it so bad. I was fourteen. I see him pull back the sheets. Feel his lips against mine. His hand separates my legs. You need to help me, Jake. I can’t live frozen in that moment.
I left.
Put it down.
Fact.
If you stare at your hand long enough, it will stare back.

***.