Minor adjustments. were what I needed to fix
My family, they didn’t arrive in America until
Several main routes constituted what the Cherokee call the drive in
the late 1800s, or so to my knowledge. But that’s only
my day. Starting with tipping for the milkshake I got from
my mother’s side, the side I care to learn about. Maybe the others came during
the 1830s, when the flesh peeled from the land and forced earlier peoples out from
some time indiscriminate in the past, ironically perhaps more discriminate,
using God knows what isn’t really my money, but something I could offer
if I only bothered to ask about them. I don’t feel that I have
a home, a mother, a history. They are still here. They will return.
treated my ancestors justly. But I am too afraid to know.
to the woman smiling when my tongue lolls my order. It’s the least I could do.