She wears an American flag like a long skirt wrapped around her waist. I thought that was illegal. In the ‘60s a friend hung a flag for a curtain. Police came to take it down. Maybe she is protesting America. We wait at a bus stop. My personal challenge to talk to one stranger daily, I nonchalantly ask about her flag/skirt. She says the red and white stripes symbolize daylight. White stars on blue are night. The design was first created by her Native American ancestors. She wants to broadcast diversity. A thin silver stick pierces her nose. She sleeps on a mat in a shelter for 13 years now. The social workers are waiting for her to die. Her goal is to teach a drill team like one she belonged to during high school. Her name is Angela. She could be an angel who will fly into stars hidden by Seattle’s bright burning sky.
Carrie Albert is a multifaceted artist and poet. Her works have been published or upcoming in many diverse journals, some with curious names including: cahoodaloodaling, FishFood, Weird Sisters, Sheila-Na-Gig and Penhead (where she is a permanent fixture as Poet-Artist in Residence). She lives in Seattle with her poodles, rabbits, pigs, deer and an elephant (her farm of papier-mâché projects).