Look Carefully Look Carefully by Mark Wilde Staring out from behind locked doors, windows rolled tight in my family's vacation-bound car, at Them, the Indian Children. They stare, equally wide-eyed, standing small in the doorways of their ruined Reservation homes, far from the buffalo, the trout stream and berry patch legends. Garbage piled in empty fields, skeletons of cars and wasted whiskey bottles. Fogging the glass with my breath, I am a tourist to Them, a thief who steals glances from car windows and wonders what it must be like to be an Indian Child, far from Hollywood on their Reservation home.
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