Albuquerque volcanos at dusk — February 15, 1998 —- photo by Mark Weber
It has been a snowy week here
……….in this New Mexico hidden out of sight
with the sun breaking through here and there
the Love Generation convenes at a little movie house on old Rt.66
to see . . . .
How did we get so old?
I’ll tell you how: Time has gone by
The generation that was so right (a little overly-idealistic, but right)
stalwart, still hanging on, tie-dyes, madras scarves, beads, ponytails, serapes,
turtlenecks, one half-bald scraggly-haired guy with an Ultimate Spinach tee shirt,
eyes gleaming probably from one too many acid trips, a few guys that look
like Baba Ram Das, another “young” lady in tee shirt that says: I’ve Gone to Pot,
it’s a time warp . . . .
O, what is “old” anyway?
I’ll tell you what old is! All that LSD talk about the non-existence of Time’s Arrow
was a bunch of claptrap, at least, as far as the body is concerned
Looks like some of these people arrived by shuttle from
the Happy Dale Psychedelic Rest home via Kesey’s bus
(Was the Lawrence Welk Show canceled this afternoon?)
Come in on canes, bent-over, hobbling gray-haired Generation Gap-tooth’d
LSD shell-shocked gleam in their eyes
Full house to see a film about a sorrowful time, when Janis died
so young, she wasn’t suppose to die, but she did, way too soon,
she had so much more to learn, like all of us: We had so much
more to learn . . . . How is it our fate
that we survived?
. . . I was going to stir up some more laughs about the Sixties veterans
but this poem has other places to go:
third eye unblinking
Is texting same as tweeting? we don’t know, and
why should we care, we have telepathy!
tattoos of OM
Some of us fell off the planet into
Some of us infiltrated government
Some of us radio
Do they still make wingtips?
The dream back then was self-sufficiency
grow your own
Think of every turn and choice in life that
has brought us to this: A movie house in Albuquerque
to pay our respects for one so gifted who perished
in those supercharged days, a little misstep and she caught a rock
Tell me it isn’t so: We all got old ——
Peace & Love
The last march of the flower children
The hippies who dreamed so hard . . . . .
And that’s all I’ve got to say about that,
Time to go watch Forrest Gump, again