A day in the life
of an Indian person
is like night to most
alcoholic rage
commodity foods abound
failed attempts to weep
called squaws and worse things
mascots for America's
sports and leisure time
drunken, lazy bums
or protectors of the earth
we remain stoic
music of our drums
and the cedar wood flute's call
are all we have left
or so it would seem
to the tourists passing by
on their vacations
they stop and buy things
trinkets to remind them all
of their summer quests
you can see them each
kicking the dirt off their shoes
before they exit
they may return or
perhaps they won't come back here
to this lonely place
this place off the path
this place where we now exist
this reservation
but if they return
they'll be greeted once again
by live artifacts
the drunks, the lazy,
the keepers of tradition
believe what you will
~A.R. Mader 3/26/00
