Sherman Alexie

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A Window in Spokane, Washington

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A Window in Spokane, Washington

a poem about children on both sides of the glass

Sherman Alexie
Jun 2, 2023
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A Window in Spokane, Washington

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silhouette of woman standing in front of window
Photo by Karl on Unsplash


That Indian bar in Spokane
was owned and operated

by a white couple.
Would you have guessed

that very few Indians own
the bars where Indians

congregate? That white
couple also owned

the apartment above
the bar. When our

Indian parents left us
kids in the cars while

they went into the bar
to party, we'd look up

to that apartment
window where

that couple's white
daughter sat

looking down at
all of us. She was

a fairy tale figure.
Her blonde hair

seemed to be the sun
illuminating one block

of the dark city.
We Indian kids wanted

to be that white girl
in the window.

She had parents who
ran a business.

They weren't poor.
She sat golden

and perfect behind
the glass. She lived

in a museum that
we were never

allowed to visit.
Decades later, I met

that white
girl as an adult.

It was breath-
taking to make

that connection
through all the time

and distance.
She remembered

us Indian kids
as a crew.

I remembered her
as a solitary figure.

I told her that we'd
always wanted to

be as luminious as her.
She said she wanted

to be as luminous as us.
She said that she

was the only child
of parents who drank,

fought, and lost 
all of it. She watched

us running from car
to car, eating chips,

drinking soda pop,
and laughing.

She said that she
was jealous of us

because we played
as a group.

She said that she
wished she was

as resilient as us.
And I said No.

I told her that we
Indians kids were

a clan of the lonely.
I said that all of us

were broken then
and are still

broken into
pieces now.

I said that many
of those kids

that she saw
every weekend

have died young.
She sighed

and said that she
was still

broken, too.
Isn't it strange how

that luminous white
girl in the window

was just as unhappy
as us luminous Indian

kids running in
the streets? But doesn't

luminous mean
that we were on fire?

Doesn't luminous
mean that all of us

children were kindling
being thrown

by the world
onto the pyre?



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A Window in Spokane, Washington

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A Window in Spokane, Washington

shermanalexie.substack.com
J.
Jul 2

Very beautiful wistful poem. We imagine other people's lives and families to be less complex than they are.

Since the blood alcohol levels for drivers were reduced dramatically, kids no longer sit outside the pubs in my country. Many of the rural hotels s have closed unless they offer food and good coffee. They used to be a place where the disparate community could interact...mixed bag. Predators and friends shared a space and behaviour and booze intake was moderated to an extent.

Now it's much cheaper to drink heavily at home in front of the kids.

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Mark VanLaeys
Writes Us AND Them
Jun 17Liked by Sherman Alexie

So Powerful. A quantum leap from - "the grass is always greener on the other side" but also right along side. Thank you

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