cuz now i got fireflies

by waaseyaa'sin christine sy

back home, at the mouth of the river home, it seemed if i wanted you in my life i had to go find you. searching. always a longing for, always an adventure in the searching, peering, stretching of optics beyond the slight rise in the hill, the gentle turn in the road. window down to let navy blue float in, gravel sounds, late night birdsongs, and amphibians mating. or something. over time, figured you out. knew where you’d be. what exact meadow, what patch of land, grass. grasses. long, thin, silhouettes against spruce spires and cedar settler fences. long, elegant grasses tangled up in each other because they seemed to want to be. hard to tell though, in the dark.

i got to know you and knew where you’d be. back home, at the mouth of the river home, it seemed i was always putting down my tobacco for you. when i closed my eyes puttin’ it down when i open my eyes puttin’ it down when i blinked away an eyelash or copper cup of tears puttin’ it down and, too, when you flew before me. always puttin’ down my tobacco for you. and the means to you, that old daaban. as it should be, too. always puttin’ that tobacco down just puttin’ it down like that.

geez. ain’t you something.

here in this little place of (grandmother and) little chief, you flick on and off, back and forth, unexpectedly everywhere it seems everywhere in this old daaban there you are, back and forth, off and on, glowing bright at night. flying dark during the day, such substance. there you are everywhere and it seems the season of you just doesn’t want to end. in this new light, you’re different. i appreciate you more in your mad love for life in the nightlight, moonlight, parking lot light, day light. i appreciate you more in your maddening love for me–my dashboard light, dim headlights, waivering heartlight. there you are beneath fireworks meandering behind metal fences and bushes, brighter than any first or fourth brighter than any blood shed heart bled from broken. there you are off and on outside this doorstep sitting and you don’t even care if it’s dark you don’t even care if it’s light rural road or city you don’t even care just care to be witnessed just care to be flying floating around with your black wings at day, luminescent ass at night.

blink. blink. blink. mesmerizing patterns.

on to you, friend, on to you and i love you.

i love you cuz now i got fireflies at night on old country roads, silent and alone and driving down city streets, headlights on low.

Translations (or, Translates Like Crap, as Helen Roy would say):

mouth of the river – nogojiwanong, peterborough
daaban – car
fireflies – waawaatesiwag
little chief – okemos

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