the cement indian

Written by: nathan martin

   i did not expect him to be
  so stoic.


  perhaps he had seen 
 to many cold winters?

  never the less there he was 
 lying there stretched out.

preserved for some fool
like me to walk over.

 it was about that time when the
 wind began to seem inconsolable.

  dry leaves fell from a nearby maple
  landing indiscriminately on his chest.

  several others began to cover his eyes.

  better get him out!

gotta get him out some how.....

going down to the local hardware store
 i bought a sledge hammer and a chisel,
 they cost more than i thought.

 i returned and began to swing 
away starting at his headdress.

 i tried to be careful not to crack the
 mortered feathers bending down 
to use the chisel.

 it was slow going at first but i
  eventually got him out.

 nobody seemed to even notice or maybe 
they were to scared to aproach a guy with 
a sledge hammer smashing up the 

  there was a bird however overhead
 who watched me, nothing majestic
  just a pigeon.

 he probably was waiting for some 
crackers or something but i took
  it as a good omen.

 this seemed to help because i was tired,
 cracking indians out of pavement
  is hard work.

  i needed some gatoraid or a cold beer, 
hurry this up i thought.

 so i went and pulled my truck up and
 managed to hoist him into the back.

 he landed in the back of the truck bed
 with a thud and shattered into pieces.

  a thousand tiny little native son pieces.

    well the only thing to do now is go 
throw him in the river i guess.

    so i went up into the hills north 
    of the washougal river.

    way way up to one of its tributaries 
called stoney creek. 

 there i scattered him and said goodbye.  

    they say pieces of him can be found
 all over america now.

   however broken some of them may