Pinwheels Panama Red and Pot Holders

While gleaning yesterday from today.
I found an old friend, dusty and chipped.
Back in the day, we weren't just directionless kittens. 
But "budding" congressmen, doctors, and convicts.
Sitting around a whirling tie-dyed circle. 
Sharing a glass tube filled with happy grass.
Minds dabbling between tide pools of freedom. 
And the coming tsunami of responsibility.

For a brief time, we held back the atomic bomb of adulthood.
Clinging to the last pinwheel of childhood. 
With a Z.Z Top eight-track, a six-pack of Genesee Cream Ale
and a sweet bowl or two of Panama Red.






5/9/20
Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

Poem

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