Sacred City

by Theodore C. Van Alst

  Stephen Graham Jones. I can never thank you enough for your generosity. I owe you a burrito, I think.

  Mona Susan Power for so very much, always.

  Elise McHugh. Thank you.

  Stephen Hull, Bryce Emley, Felicia Cedillos, Katherine White, and all the good folks at the University of New Mexico Press. And a tip of the hat to James Ayers, a copyeditor extraordinaire who should write my blurbs. Thanks for getting what I’m doing on the page.

  Sister Stacy Two Lance, brother Chris Brooks, the whole Hehaka Oyate—love and compassion always. We hope we’re being good ancestors.

  All the boyz and girlz who are gone but never forgotten. I miss you being in this world.

  Is it more of the same? Well, kinda. There’re so many stories and folks kept asking for more. A young man from Philly dm’d me one night on Instagram and asked when the next ones were coming. That’s when I decided to tell them. But I wanted to show the maturation of the teller, the technique and structures reflecting his growth and aging. I’m hopeful I did that this time out, cause like Miles Davis said, “Man, sometimes it takes you a long time to sound like yourself.”

  Finally, as always, the ancestors. We hope we’re all you thought we’d be.