nobody knows anyone

our secret power lines

and the larger lines underwriting

over-arching, architecture of the power mad.

the young women warriors

yell at me, not knowing

i’ve been yelled at all my life

and i see it passing by. i was young

when people hid native ancestry

and my family refused that. it was

lonely. i went through university

before there was any programming

designed to bridge cultures for us. sink

or swim. i flailed, floated, sank down, rose

took off on a pirate ship for a while

made it through, despite never being

right in the groove of the trend of the moment.

but, these hot young things see my face

and assume, they can safely yell at me.

their wrath, when i bother to clarify

inspires me. no, i’m never going to be

on trend. so i go to the hardware store.

wood gives not two shits for politics

but paint stripper will bring it down

to the grain. sand, stain, varnish

work yields light.