"Responsibility lies always on the shoulders of those who failed to prevent."
Randolph Bourne
Tuco was eating breakfast when the stranger sat down.
He’d wanted to be alone
but looking up into that face as the man pulled the chair back
he knew this was a morning for listening.
The man sighed, looked at the menu, ordered coffee. Studied
the menu more and ordered eggs, hashed browns and toast
when the waitress returned with the coffee. Then,
looking direct at Tuco, he said,
“If they can get you asking the wrong questions,
they don’t have to worry about the answers.”1
He waited, watching.
Tuco took his time, looked at the man,
turned back to his plate, pondered what the hell brought this on.
Why’d this guy feel this way? Why’d he chose this restaurant, this table?
The man grew impatient, began to fidget, slurp his coffee, finally
he began again, talked of the government, the local mess nobody
could do anything about because they were distracting everybody,
giving the circus to the masses, the show, the spectacle while they cleaned
the coffers, skimmed the cream, knifed the little guy in the back.
Tuco finished his eggs, gestured for more coffee and looked at the man,
studied his face as he asked him whether he’d voted last year. “No,”
the man said. The election before? “No. I mean, what’s the point?”
Ever talk to your officeholders, write them, go to meetings?
“No.” Ever go help a campaign? Work in any way
to improve your community?
The man was not happy. How could Tuco not see the unfairness,
the way they took advantage, ignored the needs of the little guy.
He dug into his eggs, shaking his head over Tuco’s blindness.
“There’s no justice,” he said as he waved his fork.
“Those responsible oughta pay.”
Tuco handed his tip to the waitress as he left.
“Welcome to their town,” she said.
And they both laughed.
RD Savage© 1995 by RD Savage
01/14/95