21 November 2006

encounter

the tired old eyes of the American Indian
hint of a story that I would love to know
but he pushes my change across the counter
with his sun-beaten leathery hands
I grab my Red Bull and turn to go
"Happy Thanksgiving," he mumbles deeply-
his voice rough yet booming with heartfelt strength
I turn back to search for irony in his old soulful eyes
but all I find is sincerity
and a semi-toothless smile
breaking through the ancient face's sunmade lines.