Revolution
I was too young to have opinions,
only irritations.
She had a revolutionary anger
against everything.
I breathed in her perfume,
her alien attraction.
She taught me what to think,
how to politicize angst.
Mostly I remember her little
sixteen-year-old breasts,
so angry, so sweet.
I wish we could both
return now,
to that brief vacation
in genteel Brighton.
To again
rage against the machine,
that has chewed us both up.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2024
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment