USA

rainwalker@hotmail.com 

Reservation Required

You’re in the middle of the 
universe, 
right there, between a Diet Pepsi can
And a rusted shut car, slathered with the crimson dust
And the sun is faded overhead, a sad indian yellow
Matching the yellow chipped paint of the fireworks store

Next to the tobacco store and the gas station
Where the water leaks into the gas pumps,
And there is the bingo schedule on the board 

over there

Next to the Powwow picture faded with age
And some kids run past with torn
shoes and dreams of basketballs
Through the hoops.

Different kind of hoop seems sacred now, unlike
What Black Elk mourned 
Thunder in the distance seems like smooth silk tearing through the clouds.
Over those three sacred hills, 
behind our tin houses 
and welfare dreams.
And the sun hoop dances through the clouds.

The lightning  fancy-dances  across
the water
Over those three sacred hills, 
behind our tin houses 
past the car graveyard.

© All Copyright, 02/03/99, Cade Swinger.
All Rights Reserved. Printed By Permission.