EXODUSI listen to Aretha Franklin sing: "What is romance without the one you love..." I sit at a table against the wall and window of KELLYS, lean into the afternoon light feeling the warmth.
The shiny maroon skin reflected the sun, my aunt picked chokecherries. Her fingertips were worn from bending, weaving geometric- designed baskets and doing intricate beadwork. I gather kindling.
"Let me have a roll," a customer drunkenly leers at the barmaid, "of quarters. Need to make a telephone call home." I light a cigarette, nodding, tiny orbs rise to the surface of the draft beer and the extinguished match leaves a pungent odor.
After closing and checking the lids of the Mason jars. My aunt began to knead bread dough for fry bread. I carried the chopped wood into the kitchen. She began to tell me a legend.
I open the matchbook with my thumb and forefinger using the corner flap to remove tobacco from under my thumbnail. Taking a drink, I wipe my fingers and remember.
My aunt told me of Stick-Indians they are spirits and come out during the fall. Don't talk or make fun of them; they can walk through walls and will shove a salmon up your ass. To show your respect put out a portion of your food for them or leave some tobacco.
I laugh, the salmon part reminds me of Speelyi and in our mythology, Coyote he played many kinds of mischief on man. I turn the loud clicking of pool balls. "Yo' play." "I got a big one!" "Well, spit it out." They laugh.
In the 60's, my aunt left the reservation. I was going to Chemawa Indian School and stopped in Seattle. Went down to First Avenue. I checked the Arlington Tavern there was an old Filipino band playing: "Happy, happy Burr-thday bebbee..." I asked around for my aunt. I continued my search walking north up First to the Eight-ball. People, I talked to, said she was around maybe in Pioneer Square panhandling.
Aretha continues to sing: "Heartbreak and misery..." Opening the door, I feel fresh air, walk to the street corner. Waiting for the red light to change.
-Earle Thompson 04:XII:97 |