At the boarding school, sometimes we
got to go out, and go downtown.
And we used to go down to this place called Woolworths,
in a little, you know little, we used to call them dime store.
I don't think there anything's worth--
I don't think it cost a dime anymore.
But anyway, we go down to Woolworths, and hang out there.
This is downtown Albuquerque.
"Woolworths."
"Went, to Woolworths, down at the corner
of Fourth and Central downtown.
Lots of skins hang out there.
They call it the Indian Center, the bus stops out in front.
Billie and I roamed among record albums,
make-up, hairspray, sprayed our hair platinum blonde,
thought we'd get away from our straight black hair.
You know, the Joe-Babe look.
A clerk heard the hissing can and ordered
us to put it back or buy it.
She watched us with eagle eyes.
We ducked out of there and fled on the first bus
back to the Indian School."
Every time we got to go out, we had to sign out,
and then we came back in, we had to sign in.
So our lives were pretty much regulated, just like military.
Because after all, these schools were
modeled after the military, which was perhaps intent.