A hundred
or so homeless are outside the window of the lodge.
They sort
of form together to get food, but first they must listen
while the
mayor or someone tells them a lesson. I look away.
On the
ledge above the window are a bunch of Salish crows
or
maybe they’re children, it’s hard to tell. Some of them
wear
cedar masks. I speak to them in a crow imitation
that
comes out, “Hah.” I have the sound right but there’s
no meaning
to it. I don’t seem to know that crow language
has
words hidden inside the sound. One of the children
up
there looks at the others and says, “Hah.” I leave there
and
cross a street running like a river to a parking lot
on the
other side. There’s an opened-up abandoned car.
Something
is moving in a paper bag. At first it’s a cat
but it
becomes a reddish dog. It looks so hopeless
and
forgotten and hungry. I pet the sad eyed dog
and
comfort it and tell it I’ll be right back
as I
wake up.
