The Half-Man

by Daniel G. Snethen

I turned down the alley

between the local dispo

and Ace Hardware Store

just off the main drag of Ridge.

Stopped to watch an artist,

a half-man, painting a mural,

freehand on the back side

of the weed dispensary.

He asked if I liked it.

Naturally, I did—and said so.

He mentioned a few other

murals he’d created about

the Pine Ridge Reservation,

and said he painted on canvass too.

Even gave me his business card.

A couple of Lakota ladies with him

said they were homeless.

Not certain if he was,

but I think they were all related.

Each lady asked me for a dollar

or some loose change;

I said I couldn’t help them,

but that I might call the artist later

about possibly purchasing a painting.

I drove off to complete an errand.

On my way back, stopped

at Taco John’s for takeout.

Bought an extra six-pack & a-pound—

along with three large Dr. Peppers.

Delivered them to the half-man

and his female companions.

They were grateful, thanked me—

said wopila-tanka and God-bless.

As I drove away it finally

dawned on me, that the artist

had no legs, and his hands

were covered in the same brilliant paints

as his mural. They looked like

a fistful of yellow and red

lightning bolts over a hand-painted,

hand-canvass of royal blue.