The inner world of Indian love was buffalo

The buffalo were a far cry from his plush Tinsel Town fire

Shadow Girls horses were sold for gravel roads

His old flatbed Ford had 3 flat tires

 

He wasn’t even a real Indian Dreamer

Most of his days were spent at CroRodeo fairs

He had the agility to get with the program

The only souvenir was a horse trailer sour mare

 

He bought a Choctaw cross trained for one thing

That mare was hauled down the road as a boy’s Mission of hope

He wasn’t runnin’ after buffalo or stealing Shadow Girl’s horses

His coup was pig-n-string and polygrass ropes

 

At loss in pretentious dally rubber thoughts and a colic cough

A desperado to the end don’t swim in the deep end of suspense

You end up runnin’ your chutes like children

Only Indians love a foundation of water and wetness

 

When Indians feel their world ran out of buffalo

Indians put on a rodeo down at the Buffalo Creek

When the rodeo calves outran or kicked

They sent their world champion to snow packed Bison Peak

 

Too many thirsty Indians fell up against the old time desires

The old streams were replaced by computer programmers streaming to dismantle

There is water to splash on face and drink or tears to cry for our lodge brother

Shadow Girl deciphers her American Indian girl life aboard a WPRA barrel saddle<3 TV

 

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