Pudgy Indian

I feel like I'm missing something or forgetting something.

I reach into my pockets, and it's not there.
There are pens, lighters, wallet, tobacco, lint...
Where is it?
I know I left it somewhere.
Maybe I never had it?

History!
History it is!
I keep going over my personal history.
I keep thinking of my relationship in this world
through the eyes of centuries of history,
and there we are,
Felicia and I
on the Burnside Bridge
making offerings from the Northside
right at
the gap
across forever
where cars leap across
the tiniest canyon
busses make the world shake.
We watch boats
pass by
and ripples in the water
talk of times...

We walked across the bridge
many a time.
Many times.
Rain, shine,
coming in from Heidi's
watching eagles fly through downtown
and it is getting closer to now
and does it mean anything
or nothing at all.

I feel like I'm missing something,
or forgot something.
I can't read books
nothing keeps my interest.
I have a hard time reading beyond half an article.

But I'm here
and life is beautiful
and I have been blessed beyond all realities.
I haven't forgotten that.
I'm not missing that.

Behind a curtain
in a pitch black room
that something is there
for me to use.
A gift in the silence
the stagnant smell of incense and smudge
the smell of the fire from yesterday.
In my imagination
it all works out.
And here we are.

My review of history
is coming to the present
and what the hell does that mean
if anything.

Someday...
someday, my friends...
we're gonna change everything
and we're all gonna dance
laugh
and have a
good time.

Don't forget
to bring pie.
Let's make sure that "something"
is never missing!