the prophet

tonight at the matador dive bar
an Indian told me I had a sister;
I said nothing to him
I gave him my hand
He was a self-proclaimed prophet
He told me I was ‘the middle’ named Kyle
He told me I was ‘quiet’
He said
You do not say anything
You do not say anything
And I looked at his coke and wiskey and thought
‘Lucky guess.’
And he told me my mother was suffering
He said I was the only trusted one.
He told me my mother was “on the way out”
I said,
“NO.”
I said,
“We are fine, there was a scare but..we are FINE,”
I said,
“We have to meet when we are sober.”
He is Cochati, and Navajo
I called him
PHONY
I said “please.”
If my mother dies
There is no world
Without her.
There is no world.