FAR OUT, MAN

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cathy traded studying calculus for chakras and declared:
 "Reality’s just a bourgeois hallucination, man."  
Her boyfriend, Sky, nodded gravely,  
adjusting glasses scotch-taped at the hinges.  

They wore tie-dye shirts that bled in the rain,  
their sandals re-soled with tire scraps.
Their van was a tin-can utopia:  
mattress in back, protest signs up front.

Discussions were existential but brief:  
“Is reality really reality?”
"Is the universe love, or just vibrating strings?"  
They believed in everything except deodorant and 9-to-5s.  

When the decade spun itself out, 
these children of peace scattered like dandelion seeds—  
some rooted, some withered, 
their buses rusted quietly into earth’s embrace.

Where did their wildness go, their unshakeable faith?
Did it fade with tie-dye, the beads, and bell bottoms?
Did their revolution disappear with the music,
or did it simply find a new home?

The seeds they scattered, wild and untamed,
took root in unexpected places~
a gentler hand, a kinder word,
a questioning gaze at the status quo—

Sometimes, on a quiet evening,
the scent of rain on dry earth,
a song on the radio, 
triggers memories of them~ 

I see them again, their faces illuminated,
leaning against a Volkswagen bus,
young and foolish and full of hope,
believing they could change everything.

Maybe, just maybe,
for a moment, we did.

12th grademeaningfulrememberlight verse

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