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.