I ever tell ya 'bout the time I marched with the Indians? It was for that young fella ... o' man, I done forgot his name ... I have the video I took, but it's too long to upload. I'd put up a snippet but I don't know how.
Anyways, some fella from BLM was there to advise us. I don't know how he got there. The brothers of the young man were taciturn and serious. The mother ...
... she was a feisty woman. At one point they'd tried to grab her but she broke free. Amidst the shouts and cursing she stumbled up to me, grabbed a hold for balance, but before I could put my arm around her to - make her feel safe, she went off to comfort a young girl who was crying ...
That dude, the advisor? He suggested we make a scene, go out on the
Interstate. It runs clean across the country, from the big woods to the
east, then west, clear across the prairie, the Missouri River and
Badlands in between.
Fuck that. We were going to the Court House, down one of St' Paul's seven hills. With the railroad close by and the northern most port on the Mississippi, a mile or so from the State capital, you could see it all laid out like a postcard. Justice was contained in a modern building, one of many I'd helped to build.
As we departed from the burial mounds on the river bluff, lo and and behold, it was as if the police were trying to direct us there to the highway with a blockade laid before us, yet we marched on, a rag tag group of all persuasions.
Some wag shouted, "Hey! Will this mess up my probation?"
I just laughed and went on. It was approaching the weekend, and I knew if we were arrested we'd spend it in jail before the judges and clerks returned with James J. Hill's summit aerie looking down on the city and it's tiny old worker's housing surrounding.
All our cell phones were jammed but that didn't stop us from filming. The fella I'd given my last cigarette to marched beside me beating a drum. He sang a song in some ancient language as we approached the phalanx in blue. We wore denim, old t-shirts and dirty shoes.
For a moment I lost track of time and then ...
I found myself behind the blue line, the others as well, just as the peace keepers turned, some of them dumbfounded.
They had our life histories, our wrongs and mistakes, all our records and their consequence, Stingray, facial recognition, license plate readers and a mysterious white truck full of electronics and gadgets I can't or wouldn't imagine.
All we had was the Great Spirit.
`
country western
and native songs -
a circle round the drum
.
Fuck that. We were going to the Court House, down one of St' Paul's seven hills. With the railroad close by and the northern most port on the Mississippi, a mile or so from the State capital, you could see it all laid out like a postcard. Justice was contained in a modern building, one of many I'd helped to build.
As we departed from the burial mounds on the river bluff, lo and and behold, it was as if the police were trying to direct us there to the highway with a blockade laid before us, yet we marched on, a rag tag group of all persuasions.
Some wag shouted, "Hey! Will this mess up my probation?"
I just laughed and went on. It was approaching the weekend, and I knew if we were arrested we'd spend it in jail before the judges and clerks returned with James J. Hill's summit aerie looking down on the city and it's tiny old worker's housing surrounding.
All our cell phones were jammed but that didn't stop us from filming. The fella I'd given my last cigarette to marched beside me beating a drum. He sang a song in some ancient language as we approached the phalanx in blue. We wore denim, old t-shirts and dirty shoes.
For a moment I lost track of time and then ...
I found myself behind the blue line, the others as well, just as the peace keepers turned, some of them dumbfounded.
They had our life histories, our wrongs and mistakes, all our records and their consequence, Stingray, facial recognition, license plate readers and a mysterious white truck full of electronics and gadgets I can't or wouldn't imagine.
All we had was the Great Spirit.
`
country western
and native songs -
a circle round the drum
.
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