His shoes were at least two sizes too big. He was a large man but the shoes dwarfed him. Made him the younger brother. The sadder nephew. They were suede mocassins. Real suede. And his callused heels double-thwapped the concrete with each step. First, the soft thud of the wet suede on the city sidewalk, second, scarred heel on suede. The shoes jingled as he walked, not bells, but beads hitting other beads he had applied with care.
The pants unlike the shoes were not real suede, which was too expensive to buy in yards. He carefully tucked the bolts of ultra-suede, into his sweatpants and had cut the edges to look like fringe. There were more beads and shiny Texas stars affixed to the fabric with hot glue. He had a poncho too the color of weak coffee with cream and it rumbled like a thousand love-sick buffalos across his chest as he walked. Strapped to his ribcage was a stereo, blasting rap music with enough bass to strip the lyrics of their words. He walked aggressively, with his shoulders pointed in the direction of each step. Bah-bow, thwap, thwap, bah-bow, thwap, thwap, bah-bow.
His head was shaved, a fever pitch shave with newly formed scabs above his ears. A single red feather was positioned behind his ear, like an extra appendage. Across his face were black streaks, thicker than coal. His skin white as flour or frost. His eyes too were muddied in black making his brown eyes bird eyes, with the black socket exposed. Bah-bow, thwap, thwap, bah-bow, thwap, thwap, bah-bow.
When he got to the intersection, he waited like the rest of us. Bah-bow, thwap, thwap, bah-bow, thwap, thwap, bah-bow.
'Hey, you an Navajo?'
'No, I'm Saponi,' he said, eyes fixed on the storm water drain.
'So you're a New Yorker, huh?'
'Yeah,' he said with a wing-span grin.
Bah-bow, thwap, thwap, bah-bow, thwap, thwap, bah-bow.
