“Is God a man or a woman?God could be an armadillo. I have no idea.”

“Then I remember that God is really, really old. So maybe God has God arthritis. And maybe that's why the world sucks. Maybe God's hands and fingers don't work as well as they used to.”

“And believe me, a good piece of chicken can make anybody believe in the existence of God.”

“My grandmother's greatest gift was tolerance. Now, in the old days, Indians used to be forgiving of any kind of eccentricity. In fact, weird people were often celebrated. Epileptics were often shamans because people just assumed that God gave seizure-visions to the lucky ones. Gay people were seen as magical too. I mean, like in many cultures, men were viewed as warriors and women were viewed as caregivers. But gay people, being both male and female, were seen as both warriors and caregivers. Gay people could do anything. They were like Swiss Army knives! My grandmother had no use for all the gay bashing and homophobia in the world, especially among other Indians. "Jeez," she said, Who cares if a man wants to marry another man? All I want to know is who's going to pick up all the dirty socks?”

“If I had a baseball bat and bulldozer, maybe I could stop him. But without real weapons, without a pistol, a man-eating lion, and a vial of bubonic plague, I had zero change of competing against him.”

“The white woman across the aisle from me says 'Look, look at all the history, that houseon the hill there is over two hundred years old, 'as she points out the window past meinto what she has been taught. I have learnedlittle more about American history during my few daysback East than what I expected and far lessof what we should all know of the tribal storieswhose architecture is 15,000 years olderthan the corners of the house that sitsmuseumed on the hill. 'Walden Pond, 'the woman on the train asks, 'Did you see Walden Pond? 'and I don't have a cruel enough heart to breakher own by telling her there are five Walden Pondson my little reservation out Westand at least a hundred more surrounding Spokane, the city I pretended to call my home. 'Listen, 'I could have told her. 'I don't give a shitabout Walden. I know the Indians were living storiesaround that pond before Walden's grandparents were bornand before his grandparents' grandparents were born.I'm tired of hearing about Don-fucking-Henley saving it, too, because that's redundant. If Don Henley's brothers and sistersand mothers and father hadn't come here in the first placethen nothing would need to be saved.'But I didn't say a word to the woman about WaldenPond because she smiled so much and seemed delightedthat I thought to bring her an orange juiceback from the food car. I respect eldersof every color. All I really did was eatmy tasteless sandwich, drink my Diet Pepsiand nod my head whenever the woman pointed outanother little piece of her country's historywhile I, as all Indians have donesince this war began, made plansfor what I would do and say the next timesomebody from the enemy thought I was one of their own.”

“1Cain lifts Crow, that heavy black birdand strikes down Abel.Damn, says Crow, I guessthis is just the beginning.2The white man, disguisedas a falcon, swoops inand yet again steals a salmonfrom Crow's talons.Damn, says Crow, if I could swimI would have fled this country years ago.3The Crow God as depictedin all of the reliable Crow bibleslooks exactly like a Crow.Damn, says Crow, this makes it so much easier to worship myself.4Among the ashes of Jericho, Crow sacrifices his firstborn son.Damn, says Crow, a million nestsare soaked with blood.5When Crows fight Crowsthe sky fills with beaks and talons.Damn, says Crow, it's raining feathers.6Crow flies around the reservationand collects empty beer bottlesbut they are so heavyhe can only carry one at a time.So, one by one, he returns thembut gets only five cents a bottle.Damn, says Crow, redemptionis not easy.7Crow rides a pale horseinto a crowded powwowbut none of the Indian panic.Damn, says Crow, I guessthey already live near the end of the world.”