Pudgy Indian

Just met a wandering Cherokee
on a journey from nowhere
to here
to quench his alcoholic thirst
with beer
to be converted from the handful
of change
I gave my loud and amazing
brother
who appeared out of nowhere
looking for a piece of survival.

Don't tell me I'm perpetuating a problem.
Look around you,
there are lots of problems
being perpetuated.

Homeless and braving the cold,
he has come here
via the grayhound
on a 3 1/2 day sleepless journey
at a time he won't admit
because he is here and now
and in the face of this strange world
where we both survive
in different ways
using different medicines.

We are determined to get it all back.

We are a testament to the wills
of our peoples determination
to LIVE
in the world of our destruction.
We need to heal
the genetic pain
that comes with our race
in a world
that doesn't recognize
our existence.
So he yells out loud
and obnoxious
in this world
where people are
discomforted
by his loud
alcoholic obnoxious voice.

To assure a good trade,
the Cherokee,
whose birthday is in a few days,
fills my top tobacco pouch
assuring the answering
of future prayers
to be offered
to my river,
or,
I should say,
the river I belong to.

On his breath
mixed with the smell of
alcohol, bad teeth, and the vibration of a voice
calling out to be recognized
in this world,
I smell...
Revolution.