Their eyes ask more than their words everytime they question, “why don’t you drink?” I’m just real tradish, too Indigenous, is what I’d like to think but really I’m scared to like it too much stumble into the night where sisters go missing and if we’re speaking statistics I match the characteristics of someone less likely to be found my brown face drowned in a sea of others the police are supposed to be out there looking out for yours but they’re the same conductors of the starlight tours so, my empty cup is my way of rebelling against the cycle against statistics besides, the system’s impaired enough for the both of us; without firewater I can’t be touched. -Autumn McDonald