The man stood by the side of the road,
his crimson hat visible for at least half a mile,
and a tan overcoat that looked new.
His belly bespoke a life well-fed;
his face a contradiction,
weather-worn and tired
Not still young yet not old,
a Lakota man...walking
somewhere
in a place where any "somewhere" was
a long way away
and a hard walk
especially alone
and the cars drove past
none stopping
not even other Lakota
who stared at him
"I should give him a ride," I thought,
passing on the opposite side;
But I was already late.
And as I looked once more into my rearview mirror,
I realized the man was watching me,
his red hat visible still
sunset red, crimson, scarlet
and I wondered
how long the man had walked that road
and whether he, too, was late
for an appointment
or a date
in his fine, red hat and new coat
But there would be
no...ride...today.