There was so much music about,
I couldn’t get your songs, my own
were a chaos. We carefully
didn’t throw in everything.
You were the first woman to live with me
(though it was initially in a tent).
We had no money & my health was a mess.
One day on acid three crows landed on my belly.
Did I know you? Who was I?
There was a hope that
hippie Marxists would never go out of fashion.
We had a selfish & passive pacifism, were just so
afraid there was a god
as we meditated in a bored fervor.
I think there were some solutions
but so many helpless questions.
In a cloud of art school
you cried occasionally.
The dole-roses fluttered towards our mattress
on the scrounged milk crates base.
We were the ideal couple of ideas
in a time when nothing made sense (1976).
The next year only got worse,
kept it so polite
as we splintered.
Grey Sparrow Journal 