We were young then,
emboldened
All innocent of what lay
within us, before us, those
later exigies
hidden, for a time, from
our newly hungry lips our
endless freedom
swaggering hearts
every moment freed
resolute, we did venture far
So on along the highway, New
York to Albuquerque
L.A. to Boulder, the
Mexico stopover, the
Arizona times as the
states flew by, all windows
open
Santana drenched us
like some long sought religion
Joplin, Hendrix, the
brilliance of Mahavishnu the
crooning of Mitchell
while roadside gas stops
still gave paper water cups
which, once sipped, we
poured over our heads
laughing, defiant
that irreverent heat
drying us, crisp, down the road
One winter the car
let loose its U Joint
out on the freeway
St. Louis evening rush hour
Abandoned it til later,we
hitched a ride with this
grizzled, worn guy
all sheets to any wind
Later we drove while he
snored in the back seat the
windows irretrievably locked we
whispered at the handgun
found under the seat the guy’s
Lincoln racing on through
the night
We were young then, simply
veering
from one philosophy to the next we
talked over carefully the
world as we knew it,
the
enduring templates of
Buber, Nietzsche,
Kierkegaard until wisdom
exploded, alive, in Central
Park
one sweltering summer night
1972, it was all happening then
the air eclectic t hose
the air eclectic t hose
around us riled with the
changes that would
TWIST this culture
And there she was, standing
far before us the
crowds of thousands
I pushed my young hands onto
his
delicious shoulders to be
lifted up, up, and
see her speak she was
determinant, sharp, and
true
Gloria Steinem described
how
the world lied
how history conspired, how the
how history conspired, how the
culture blinded us with
male pronouns
strewn everywhere like
prescient landmines
ascertaining its incipient
pretense of power
And yes, we became certain
this was a realm that would
guide us, somehow,
if we ventured thoughtfully
enough
Yes, we would
stay awake
where others had slept
we would
question everything
rebuild the truth
examined, ground up
holding fast, each to each
close
Insistent clarity in life
Later, came the duststorms
those
southwest bedsheets the
sheer delight of his
face , sweat soaked in
late morning awakenings
weighted, oppressive
heat the simplicity of
options our certainty that
such effort would ensure
stolid life, ah we
were so young then and we
tried so terribly hard
And then Christmas Eve,
struggling back
done with the southwest
the itch scratched
our 4 wheel drive bucking
along breakdown lanes my
mother iridescent with
rage at our detainment
while I sighed with the familiar
relief of near miss
excommunicated for a
year maybe
he looking over to me, knowing….
I peered back into his blue eyes then
back at sweet cats and dogs
ensnared in the van we
towed behind
filled with belongings, our
truck so high you had to
leap to get up into it, I
mean it
made me laugh
every time, all
blazing yellow, with a
handmade ten ton cab
wrought with his
effervescent
young strong arms;
in our own 70’s way we
struggled cross the
land
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