There is this bona fide <br />Indian burial ground in this <br />city <br />right next to the ball park <br />where the give tickets <br />for the games away <br />at bars where they sell <br />eighty cent draft <br />and these people <br />Indians probably <br />or concerned white folk <br />working in concert <br />with Indians <br />have put all these crosses <br />in the ground <br />nice ones too <br />I look at them whenever <br />I go by <br />and think of the Indians <br />in their graves <br />next to the ball park <br />surrounded by roads <br />but then there’s always more <br />to stories like this <br />some people take the <br />crosses <br />and vandalize them as well <br />and the power plant wants to build <br />a building on top <br />of the dead Indians <br />plus to this <br />and add to that <br />but the city which built a bat <br />the size of a house <br />in the part of town <br />north of the crackline <br />wont put a sign down <br />or anything <br />they wont even talk <br />about it<br /><br />Robert Brendan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-indians/
