Jack Buck


There you are and there I am and over there is everyone else you know or have met one time or another. And over there is the center of the town, the library, the bar, the defunct theater the town hasn’t replaced because of lack of money. What about the road, the alley, the porch, the side door, the pile of coats, the broken stairs leading to the cold basement where some of our friends decided to make their bedroom. Up the stairs is where the oversized kitchen is, the deep sink that made everyone excitable about all the big dinners we would have together, it’s like those 1892 original homeowners knew we were coming to live here. Let’s walk backwards down those roads, let’s sleep in the front lawns of the old houses you liked in particular - they won’t see us, they won’t mind. Look, there’s the table, and the wood flooring that reminded you of your grandparent’s house. Here is the bowl you put fruit in, here is the bucket of paint to paint the wall like you always wanted to but never did. How come? Why didn’t you paint that wall? I bet that wall would have looked real good painted by you. You should come back, I’ll drive out and be there in three days to pick you up. This time I won’t not say anything, this time I’ll say let’s get up, let’s get after it, it’s something we can make together. We can paint those walls together, a color we both like, and it will be like we never left. 



Jack C. Buck, originally from Michigan, lives in Denver, Colorado. He loves Michigan and Colorado just the same. And, baseball and reading just as much. He thanks you for reading his work. Find him on Twitter @Jack_C_Buck