Lakota

I would race barefoot through tall golden prairie grass, chasing, chasing, chasing, burning breath coming in ragged gasps. I would,
But
I am gassing my minivan. I must stop at the store for a few things.

The wounded bull stumbles, eyes wild, nostrils flaring. He looks at me, and I at him. We are two warriors locked in battle. I would plunge my knife in. I would,
But
Left turns are treacherous pulling into my grocery parking lot during the afternoon rush hour. I must watch traffic.

I would revel in the great bull’s hot, gushing blood and yell the warrior's whoop. The red river flows from him and anoints my body in scarlet. He is my friend. His death means life for the tribe. The great bull gives every part of himself to the Lakota. Later, when first snows come to the land of endless grass, I would wrap my woman and her baby in his fur. I would,
But
I'm picking up a bottle of chardonnay, ice cream for the kids and feminine hygiene products for my wife. She works late tonight. I must hurry.

The warm liver cut from the dying bull is prized by the warrior. Only he eats it. It gives him the buffalo's strength. I would cut it out and take first bite. I would,
But
The kids have a soccer game. TV dinners will have to do.

I would laugh by the fire. The dancing will go on all night. My men show me big respect. Young warriors want me to relive the battle again and again. I would,
But
I must rush home before the ice cream melts.

When the fire is low, and sleep comes to the young, I would return to my teepee. My woman murmurs and coos. She offers herself to me. I would have the final reward for the warrior. I would take her. I would,
But
I haven’t refilled my prescription for Viagra.

I would sleep the long, deep dreamless sleep of the warrior. I would,
But
I'm out of Ambien.

I would be the warrior. I would,
But
I am the modern man.

Luke Saucier July, 2010