1967 Takes Off

Blind fish in the basement.
Tall nights with the edge of light--
Arriving for the day’s growing passion.
I met the opera like a fallen wren,
Waiting for the sound of my own voice.

Alice and I were already three thousand miles apart,
Though neither of us felt the glow.
She took me in to a room full of change,--
I brought all the baggage I could carry.

Jefferson Airplane landed again.
I took the backstairs to memory.
I landed in Bill’s, sibling credentials in hand—
Looking for the long, lost idol.

San Francisco in the sixties was like a dying carnival then.
All the the flowers on the Haight had cracked.
Long walks led nowhere but an empty Market Street.
Even the Fish had gone to the sea.

Alice gave me what I brought. So did brother Bill.
A wandering blindness, waiting for the cellar door to open.

This is an old fish, but I didn't want it to just lie there in my workshop from May 2006, so I thought I'd bring it out. Country Joe and I chatted once at an acoustic benefit he was giving for Vietnam Vets. Nice man.

Peter

I love it.

I was born a year later, but can somehow oddly relate to the times you describe...I've always told my mom to be thankful I was not born one generation earlier in time for living the late 60s/70s during my young adulthood. I'm glad you dug this out...

Our friend K.Q. was also born in 1968, a fortunate year. Thanks for reading and commenting,

Peter