The Dreams of Johnny Big Man



      by Mark Wilde

          When I was fourteen I smoked cigarettes
          with Johnny behind the Mobil station
          near my home in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma.

          Johnny was small. Like me he wore dirty
          jeans and cowboy boots. His black hair
          was straight, long. He said he was Pawnee.

          He would dance and sing Dreams songs,
          kicking up dust, clouding the hot south-
          western sun, as we waited for tourists.

          at night I wander
          within a raincloud
          at night I wander
          weeping with the rain

          at dawn I roam
          carried by the wind
          at dawn I roam
          across the sky

          We would drink Cokes spiked with vodka
          I stole from my ole man, and listen
          to country music radio from Tulsa.

          We sat in the shade and watched heat
          rise up from the highway. The stale air
          burned our faces, chocked in our throats.

          Johnny Big Man sang like his Grandfathers
          for heat-dazed tourists as they pumped
          gas, begging quarters for more smokes.

          the rain comes down
          at the edge of the earth
          the rain comes down
          and touches the land


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      This magazine is produced by the Write Place
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      Last update: 10 May 2000

      URL: http://leo.stcloudstate.edu/kaleidoscope/volume2/johnnybigman.html


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