byAdrian Louis
A hot, yellow day of aberrant humidity.
A day of sweat and fatigued fans.
A day of yellow grass and green dreams.
That Indian I hate arrived today.
That just barely scraping by Indian.
That hock shop hopping Indian.
That Indian who decides it's high
time to fall off the wagon.
That Indian with unpaid bills
swarming like killer bees inside
his frantic, long-haired head.
Yeah, it's that Indian who can't even
pay for the electricity that powers
this ancient Apple computer.
He's just standing there.
I sure wish he'd go away
and let me contemplate
this true lack of power.
God damnit, now he's
eating my last can of soup!
© 2000 Adrian Louis. , University of Nevada Press.