I was listening to the radio.
They said the score was close
between the sinful and the righteous
in the full-court game of basketball
to decide the fate of the world.
The stakes were incalculable.
The referee was bribed,
the fouls were flying left and right.
The sinful body-checked the righteous,
and the righteous turned the other cheek and sighed,
"Just let me make this one free throw."
I was talking to a Cherokee.
He said, "Just tens please.
Because that bastard Jackson took me
and my family from Northern Georgia
on a Trail of Tears
into the arid depths of Oklahoma.
There were no amenities,
no remedies for the diseases
transferred via blankets that were
meant to signify a lasting peace.
They left us there, said, 'We gotta go.
But here's some whisky and a casino.'"
I was talking to a little girl.
She said the end was close.