Outside
the convenience store,
some old drunk waving
four dollar bills at me.
“Hey! Can you take me
to the bar?
That one on the road
up to the rez? I can pay you.”
I like his silver
cuff and hate
my father’s face
on him. “Oh sorry,
not going that way.”
He smiles
and walks away to wait for
the next possibility —
I like his silver ring
and hate how he’s got
my dad’s face, my messed-up
smile.
Dark Matter 
August 4th, 2012 at 3:54 am
Beautifully done. Very poignant ending.
Always enjoy reading your poems.
August 4th, 2012 at 4:04 am
Much appreciated. This is in fact a poem that hews closely to the details of an actual incident. It was my first trip to New Mexico and I was preparing to visit the reservation where my family is from for the very first time when he knocked on my window…
August 4th, 2012 at 4:07 am
I have re-blogged this. Hope you don’t mind.
August 4th, 2012 at 4:25 am
Not at all, Pat. Thank you.
August 4th, 2012 at 3:18 am
There’s some excellent stuff around on wordpress this morning.
M
__________
Marie Marshall
author/poet/editor
Scotland
August 4th, 2012 at 4:02 am
Thank you very much!