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574

How long till the remote past becomes mythology Feeling replaced before I'm a soon to be refugee

The invaders cornering My girl Brooke And our cargo cult Card games of Palace What we thought the original Itself a remodeled Gothic cathedral

I think of Mike, the Cree Slayer fan Gone not long after I washed up here Though the white man Crossed the ice sheet first Is/was there more than one type Of Indian drum chant and dance?

Who in this repeating process remembers Why don't women faint anymore When I leave will they wave a handkerchief

How long till the remote past becomes mythology Feeling replaced before I'm a soon to be refugee The invaders cornering My girl Brooke And our cargo cult Card games of Palace What we thought the original Itself a remodeled Gothic cathedral I think of Mike, the Cree Slayer fan Gone not long after I washed up here Though the white man Crossed the ice sheet first Is/was there more than one type Of Indian drum chant and dance? Who in this repeating process remembers Why don't women faint anymore When I leave will they wave a handkerchief

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[–] • 1 pt (edited )

Well written, introspective and picturesque but remember to capitalize "White"! Just nitpicking, as when I read the news I get inferiorated when I see every race capitalized except White.

But yeah, back to seriousness, good poem Brother.