In Indian towns,
In crooked and barren canyons
On this side of Arizona,
The broken youth walk
Their negro dogs;
They dress in dirty black suites,
Black ball caps, onyx t-shirts,
Charcoal latex and evening gowns.
On a black road
Approaching midnight
Obscured in the clouded
Reservoir of drunken ancestors,
They petition Coyote,
Smearing chunks of coal
Into their eyes
To disappear into the next
Brilliant appearance
Of manifest destiny.