And there's this version of American history we'd like
to forget but we can't . It's a growth in the stomach,
enamel burnt and corroding along this path
lined with dams, Grand Coulee, Hoover, Eerie, Panama,
Sweeping through Kansas like a drunk tumbleweed,
Faircloth Lake Dam where my grandfather fished
for crappie with my mother when she was as old as she
was in this picture of her, cherokee blood thinned
to some unnamable percentage, not even enough to
qualify a trip upstream to the end of the world.
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