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The Road To Fort Worth

Read » Chapter 8: Danville


Cigar Store Indian

The riverbed has changed some in its meandering since you last beat corn on rocks for meal and fished in clean waters for food, though the same summer sun, high in the afternoon sky, beams with laser intensity, as it once baked lines and creases of wisdom in your brow.

There are wider, sealed paths to the river now. Cities of sand and rock obscure the horizon as high up as the next bend in the river and beyond.

The tom-tom is stilled. Wisdom has a different weight and measure.

Your memory survives in feathers and turquoise and stories of cowboys and old cigar store Indians and little else, as the smoke of your spirit threads its way through the adobe of old town, an image reflected here and there from window to window and shattered by passing wagons, forgotten dreams and people too busy to even notice that we, too, are children of the earth.

Copyright ©2012 Michael Jackson Smith


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