Long ago
Red men
Went past
this place,
Portage
in our
lingo,
moved
I hear,
Before
there were
b’milk
night skies,
Paved roads,
Paved folk,
All choking
on proximity,
good place
to move
on from
And me,
Still here
38 years,
I feel
the spike
in my foot
Holding
me down.