We were
Parkway 2-3304
Lived below the tracks
At the bottom of the hill
Flushed our toilet
Into the river
We were white
Bread rising
Behind the wood stove
Coal shoveled
From a pick-up truck bed
Through the shed chute-door
We were carrots
Potatoes, beets in sand
Stored in the root cellar
Dug into the bank
Canning jars of fruit and
Pickles lined the shelves
We were bamboo rods
And wicker creels
Rubber packs, overshoes
Wool and more wool
We were dandelion
Chokecherry and elderberry
Wine kicked up by raisins
Hand paddled ice cream—a thick
Scum on the tongue—comic books
Read on the floor behind the bar
At Chadwick & Boyd’s
Or in the back seat
Of our ’55 Chevy
We were empty pop bottles
Traded for penny candy
At Archie’s Texaco
Cleared our throats with ice
Cold nickel-bottles of Coke
Pulled from the water-bath
Reservoir machine
Outside Johnny’s Mobil
We were black bears
Spring and fall in the fruit
Trees and garbage cans
The smell of wet dog
Burn barrels and deer tallow
We were clothes-pinned
Playing cards sputtering
On bike spokes
Like Evel Knievel jumping
Knapweed, sleeping out
In pup tents up the creek or
On our lawns under the stars
We were strip poker and dirty jokes
A six-pack of Olympia beer
Stolen from Lovely’s porch
And stashed in their wood pile
We were sledding the big hill
All the way to the river
Bucking bales each summer
Till football began
Crusin’ the drag
And listenin’ to the radio
Elvis, the Beatles, the Beach
Boys and the Stones
The Doors and Dylan
CCR, Motown, What’s Goin’
On? What’s goin’ down
On The Eve of Destruction
We were the young awakening
To men dying unarmed
In the streets and bleeding
Overseas deep in the jungle of
TV, Goddamn!
Steppenwolf set the tone
As we tried to navigate
Not lose ourselves
On that Magic Carpet Ride
Or succumb to The Pusher
Who’d become Our Generation
A Monster Born to be Wild
We were the children
Of booming promise
Gone shaggy, irreverent
And fucking stoned
How could this happen
Out in the sticks at the drive-in
Easy Rider kept us Groovin’
Marijuana was a weed
And we believed Jefferson
Airplane’s Volunteers and Canned
Heat’s decree that all men
Every boy, girl, woman, and man
Were created equal
Black Panthers NOW
Took AIM at Vietnam Veterans
Against the War
It was insane and
We were drafted into it
By funerals and flag draped coffins
Our innocence blown
Like brain matter and blood
On the lap of a pink dress
While German Shepherds and fire
Hoses tore at black men
And women billy-clubbed
On their knees, Altamont gave us
Sympathy for the Devil
We were lost
For a decade of post
Traumatic stress
Booze and pills
Window pane and crystal
Powders we called thrills
Kicks were getting harder
To find the older we got
Out in the woods we ran
On mountain tops, we flew
Outside up high
Fishing lakes, walking streams
Searching for something, some reason
To breath, to keep
Stumbling along
What saved me
Was fatherhood, my kids
Helped me remember
What it was like
To see the world up close
For the first time
Sitting with bees or deer
Until they didn’t care we were there
Watching the shadows change
From sunset to dark, listening
To the old dog snore under our feet
Then beat homemade fudge, lick
The spoon, play board games
On the kitchen floor, back then
When we were kids
We were convinced
Our parents knew everything
Unaware of their panic
Never privy to their terror
My sons reminded me
To buck-up and be the dad
They needed me to be
It’s what we do when we don’t know
What else to do—pretend
We know what’s coming
Up and what’s going down
That road we’ve never been on
Take the point and walk
Into the dark, it’s the only thing
We can do besides celebrate
Our nakedness rolling in
The grass of a sunny afternoon
And laughing at the foolery
Of our oh-so-certain selves, take stock
In each other, abide our needs
To love and dance
And play, what we’d almost forgotten
Dial up that old area code
For living today
—for Birthday Burt and his Montana Gal
