on the wall hang many things
calling me elsewhere
a tiny nativity
figures in a glass case
gathered around a tiny babe
angels on a string
a muddy portrait on a tin rectangle
a spam can madonna
a cross decorated with bits of golden weed
off to the side is a portrait of Sitting Bull
he looks directly at me
old, worn, proud, sad
“I am life,” he says.
“I am you.
Go, live it.”
The Ace Hotel Notebook 