Deep dark wrinkles etch the face looking up at me

An Indian at the post office, back against the wall

Legs curled under him, or maybe none at all

His sign reads: homless, hungry, plees help me

I kneel down, knees on the ground, now eye to eye

Strange alter--the thought flashes and rushes by

What tribe I ask, pulling out bills for this hungry guy

Duwamish he says, sounding shy with a tear in his eye

You know of Princess Angeline then, Seattle's daughter.

Ma told me stories yes, said that gramma knew her

No one believed her, cause she was a whisperer

But I've been where Wewick squatted, with her beads and her water

How about we exchange: give me a dream, I give you dollars

You the crazy man, but I'll play. You serious?

Ask your friends. They call me Doctor Serious

You a doc? PhD, a freeloading member of a community of scholars

What's with the rhymes? Keeps the talk from being small

What's the dream? I was gettin' outa the wind at the new hotel

They called the police and ran me off. Today it happened, real as hell

Same as the dream. At the Marriott? Yes, just using their damn wall.

Can't see it's worth two bucks he says as I hand him the money

Oh it is, it is, and more, but that's my going rate for now

I'm off to the Marriott, I'll explain the origin of my new vow

I will say, I will not stay, I will not pay, not even a copper penny