There is a scent<\/p>\n
of memory,<\/p>\n
triggering disjointed visions.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The tin bucket<\/p>\n
holding rocks or wood pieces.<\/p>\n
Our versions of bologna sandwiches<\/p>\n
with discount Mayo.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The three-legged wooden table \u2026<\/p>\n
A red-checkered cloth \u2026<\/p>\n
There was always a dented, silver coffee pot<\/p>\n
left wondering when the next cup would be poured.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
After endless hours<\/p>\n
playing school<\/p>\n
in the abandoned<\/p>\n
chicken coop,<\/p>\n
recess beckoned.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
We whooped our way to the corral,<\/p>\n
our playground.<\/p>\n
Our classroom was a grain trough<\/p>\n
for bum lambs,<\/p>\n
forgotten or adandoned by their moms.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
We clambered over the sagging fence<\/p>\n
by the faded pump house<\/p>\n
where my mom, as a child,<\/p>\n
used to stash<\/p>\n
Orange Crush bottles<\/p>\n
in the chilly water tank.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The current from the Galloping Goose<\/p>\n
pushed us up the hill,<\/p>\n
as it danced by on the railroad tracks,<\/p>\n
enjoying its last years on the rails.<\/p>\n
The nice man in the caboose always waved.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I must have been 4 or 5 years old.<\/p>\n
Around \u201985, an out-of-town excavation crew<\/p>\n
removed the last tracks heading into town,<\/p>\n
and blew up the bridge trestle,<\/p>\n
finally silencing the railroad engine forever.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
In the late 70\u2019s we could not<\/p>\n
have seen this coming.<\/p>\n
Our main concern being<\/p>\n
who was the first to the tire swing<\/p>\n
by the old house.<\/p>\n
It was this person who got to choose<\/p>\n
the sitting order.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The three of us could fit, but<\/p>\n
you wanted to be the highest.<\/p>\n
You didn\u2019t want to feel the weight,<\/p>\n
or the hot, black rubber beneath<\/p>\n
shorted legs,<\/p>\n
shortening your breath,<\/p>\n
as you planted your face<\/p>\n
into the tank top of the one<\/p>\n
above you. Inhaling<\/p>\n
scents of sweat, heat, and the<\/p>\n
soil of generations of commitment<\/p>\n
to the relentless Eastern Montana land<\/p>\n
beneath your feet,<\/p>\n
as you tried to push off,<\/p>\n
legs slipping off the bald rubber<\/p>\n
held by the twine<\/p>\n
my grandfather\u2019s hands tied years before<\/p>\n
He died.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Leaving us with disjointed memories,<\/p>\n
playing school<\/p>\n
to the fading sound of the train horn<\/p>\n
still floating on the never-ending breeze.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
There is a scent of memory, triggering disjointed visions. The tin bucket holding rocks or wood pieces. Our versions of bologna sandwiches with discount Mayo. The three-legged wooden table \u2026 A red-checkered cloth \u2026 There was always a dented, silver coffee pot left…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1028,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[13],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-34554","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-miscellaneous"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/34554","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1028"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=34554"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/34554\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":34583,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/34554\/revisions\/34583"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=34554"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=34554"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=34554"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}