Peyote Tea - May 1976

Marcus and I
high on peyote tea
walking north along
the narrow road
that hugs the coast
from Westhaven to
Trinidad
no cars
just the sea air
the alders
the Pacific
glassy blue
glimpsed sometimes
through the trees

Our spirits soaring
with the tea
the air
the spring wildflowers
the quickening life
above, below
and everywhere around us
and we two free
to wander as we chose

Then coming toward us
down the road
an old man
Yurok from his appearance
native to this place
his people had called
Tsurai long before
the Spanish came
in seventeen seventy-five
and then the Russians
for furs and finally
the settlers and the
so-called Indian wars

Holding a paper bag
and sipping from the bottle
the bag held
whisky we imagined
but didn't ask
he walked right up
and with a smile
that stretched wide
across his face
he asked in singsong
voice "How far you goin'
a tousen mile?"

And we thought we were high!
but this old man
was so far past us
we could only laugh

and wish him well
as he walked
down the road
his question though
came back to me
from time to time
that summer
like a song
as I hitchhiked the Kenai
down to Homer
and rode the train
Fairbanks and Denali
"How far you goin'? A tousen
mile?"