Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

Crystal Clear Indian Day

It's a crystal clear day,
With clouds littering the sky,
Like trash littering a highway
In which a pathetically tanned italian
Stands around,
Faking Indian and tears over
Fast food trash lying about his feet.
It's an Indian day.
Shall I fake italian and
Go get my pizza and spaghetti?
It's the kind of day that
Makes a young blood ponder the sky
And think,
“Did the sky look this way on the
Trail of Tears?
Or have all Indians peered at the sky
At the precise moment
When a rain cloud dumped its load on them?”
All days with skies of beauty
Shall not be in vain,
For today is an Indian day.

April 6, 2004

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Crystal Clear Indian Day

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