with feathers in her
hair she said that
my words seemed like
a love letter written
in 1876 "you sit
there indian style to
ransom off good faith
trying to save face
in the era of
general custer's mis takes"
all this was no
big to a kid
dizzy in the dance
i just thought she
was hot "so i
whispered i got this
grass from allen ginsberg
it's supposed to be
good shit word has
it he sucked off
the ghost of crazy
horse while walking
through neil cassady's final
death dream in mexico
but that the heat
from his lips couldn't
keep out the snow
cuz his words were
muffled

she sat down and
played spin the bottle
for quarters under weed
light wisdom until she
won $24 and i said
"with that you can
buy any island you
want and dig up
the graves of your
own people to build
a wal mart" and
felt justified enough
to go down on
her prayers to the
great spirit with a
sunkissed lick stolen from
the lips of billy
the kid going at
it with the good
karma of a child
playing cowboys and indians
with the heart of
a martyred
desperado