Member-only story
Waving Back
Alone in a room means more than it once did
Old man Mr. Bentley lived in a broken
travel trailer at the base of my childhood hill.
He was 100 years old and I watched him
take an outdoor piss among the raspberry bushes
many mornings near the school bus stop.
He dressed in overalls and white long johns
no matter the season. The last man of his tribe,
he never left the trailer and no one ever came.
No cars. No pets. I wish I’d spoken to him
even once, the pioneer, the land wrestler,
the grisly duck hunter. Like the last of the Juma,
his stories went with him. No more song,
no more dance, no more tradition. Do we deserve
to live as we want in the woods or on a clay floor?
Alone in a room means more than it once did.
© Trapper Markelz 2021
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