4.14.13 Later Came The Duststorms

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

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

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