the outhouse

the outhouse
still stands
behind my grandma's house
as a reminder of where i come from
of where i've been
and that it was not so long ago
that we used to use it
the way the government used us
no flush no flush
it still stands there
piling up
like a reminder
that my family in pine ridge
still uses one
my grandma lives on
the rosebud reservation
i'm tired of saying
where i come from
i live in spring creek
but that is not me me me
i just want to flush
the toilet
so i don't have to keep smelling
my poverty
on the potty the potty
so i party
and i have a good time
getting wasted
so i don't have to think of the waste
that is coming out of me
that is becoming me
i just want to write good poetry
but i tear the words
right off of the
roll of the role
that i played as a student
and i ball up those
words like toilet paper
and i use the world
to wipe my ass
because let's face it
anyone can have a toilet bowl mouth
and no matter how many times
flushed or hushed
it's still the same shit swirling about
but it doesn't matter right now
because that outhouse is still
behind my grandma's house
and i just can't flush
these words these thoughts
of what i am and what i am not
and does it define who i am
and what i am anyway
is but just another poet
who rephrases rewrites reverts
verse after verse
recycled shit
and dammit!
i just wish
i could flush this.

c JoelWaters2004