Pudgy Indian

She can have long conversations
with people
who will forget her
the next time they see her.

She jokingly tells me
she is convinced she is dead
and only I am able to see her,
a disenfranchised
Cherokee pale face
wandering the earth
in search of her people.
The Revolutionary Indian
and his deceased/invisible
white woman friend
who is part Cherokee.
Sounds like a TV sitcom.

A friend took our photo together
and I told her
that the FBI would only put a copy
in my file
because they wouldn't see her
in the picture.

A fellow Indian
described her in a poem
like she was a porn star
born only to attempt
to get his Indian dick.
But when the story is told
he really wanted to fuck
a white woman
who refused his constant advances.
He wanted revenge
on the white woman
who refused his advances
because she had dignity
which he wanted to steal
like white men stole our land.

She is my friend
who jokingly calls herself
my "Tonto."
My sidekick.
She is my friend.

2.

It is a joy to be with her
laugh and go on adventures
talk about Revolution, Love, and Life.

She is looking for something.
Maybe something she lost.
Maybe something she never had.
Maybe something that was stolen
long before she was born,
and she will find it...
I can tell.

3.

I dance on the wet roof
of the parking garage
and ask her what she would say
to the top of a tree
since we can look eye to branch
with one
just over the concrete barrier
some seven stories up.
She's not comfortable with heights
and only glances
and sends her greetings
to the easily recognized
life form.

4.

She is full of life
and becoming a warrior
for women's rights.
"Becoming" is the wrong word.
For she is just carrying her warriorness
to the airwaves.
And I get to watch this new flower
start to blossom
in the garden of her life.

I am so happy
she and I
are friends.