Dead Letter Office

Drawing from the Lasansky Studio

Dead Letter Office


I get a letter,
written in my native tongue,
but I don't understand it,
so I spend the night looking for a translator,
until I find Big Mom in the bar.

She speaks the language,
but I have to fancydance for her,
in blue parka and tennis shoes,
circling the jukebox,
while all the other Skins
fall back to the floor,
from whiskey and fear and sex and dreams,
calling me a name I recognize
but cannot be sure is my own,
until closing time,
when Big Mom rises from her chair,
walks out the door,
and I follow her for years,
holding some brief letter from the past,
finding she had never been here,
she had never gone.


Sherman Alexie...........from The Business of Fancydancing