I’m not a true,
pessimistic,
booze-driven,
Indian.

I’m simply a rag-tag,
misfit,
biological,
Native American.

An idea: what I might be, treads water, but-
Even wanting to believe my low-life living is worth something,
my hydro-head crafts the phrase, “What?”
In my life, a question fitting to anything

But every “What?”
goes with a hopeful wish,
And every Insult
goes with a Countering Pride
And every Amphibian
goes with a Reptile and Fish
And every Junior Spirit
goes with a Hidden Side

I’m more of an Amphibian,
Both a Reptile and a Fish,

Yes, an Amphibian is right.
Pinned by the adamant arms of evolution,
Forever in transition, with no end in sight,
Unsatisfactory to Reptiles and Fish… it’s a gross attribution

Yes, an Amphibian is right.
A slip up of mother nature,
An ugly, 
wide-eyed,
disgusting,
Unlovable Fright,

Yes, an Amphibian is right.
I’ll put up a good fight
to ascend diversity to a new height,
and hush the commotion between Red and White.

Between
Drink and Write
Between
Booze and Dish
Between
a Reptile and a Fish