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.