We look the part, it was past midnight, well into the weekend Coming out of Detroit into the Canada side, border guards and checks We are asked, Who are you Indians and which side are you from? Barney answers in a broken English  He talks this way to white people, not to us Our kids, my children are wrapped and sleeping in the back seat He points with his lips to half-eyed Richard in the front That one too Richard looks like he belongs to no one Just sits there wild-haired like a Menominee would And my wife, not true, but hidden under the windshield at the edge of this country We feel immediately suspicious and we can't help but laugh Kids stir around in the backseat But it is the border guard who is anxious He is looking for crimes, stray horses for which he has no apparent evidence Where are you going, Indians? In an Indian car trying to find a Delaware Powwow that was barely mentioned in Milwaukee Northern Singing and a Northern sky Moon in a colder air Not sure of the place but knowing the name, we ask, Moraviantown? The border guard thinks he might have the evidence It pleases him Stars out, clear into Canada And he knows only to ask, Is it a bar? Crossing the border into Canada We are silent Lights and businesses we drive toward Could be America, too Following us Into the North