Precious Cargo

Gone are the days of thunder
Fortified with youthfulness
Not knowing all the answers, nor
Caring what was acceptable or not
Defiant, narcissistic, busy
Filling self-fulfilled prophecies
Of grandeur, sexual energy runs high
Night tigers in heat on mean streets
Going at it like there was no tomorrow
Ready to take what ever came our way
A revved up 64’ Ford, backseat converted to a bed,
A trunk full of dreams, wishes, and ideas
Onto the #1 highway, headed west,
Picking up hitchhikers, road scholars,
Searching for authentic Canada
Days ran into each other, like
A well shuffled deck of poker cards
Summer days lasted forever, no one folded.
Hippies, sojourners, half peace half grease,
Tented along the highway of questions, like
Post modern gypsies
Toking, poking, smoking, playing guitars,
Singing classic folk songs of freedom and joy
One percenters, not buying into the lies
Shoulder length brown hair
Buckskin jacket, western boots, and
Your famous hippie dye dresses.
Nothing mattered except our highway love
Made it to the coast, panhandled Grandville,
Caught a ferry, and fell deeper in love, between
Setting chokers for a living
Pulling wet lumber off the green-chain
Anti-nuclear protest marches, Amnesty International,
Down with Monsanto and community gardens,
Worth it all, to see you and baby blue
One thing happened after another, and
The next thing we knew, we were old.
Blue Ford time machine sat in the back
A symbol of a time long gone, but
Deeply remembered, peace and love(making)
Baby blue lives in Toronto, playing in a band
We’re growing old together, each other’s historians
We laugh at the time we drove out of Winnipeg
Freedom blowing thru our hair
Not knowing or caring where we were headed
Peace signs and rainbows everywhere
Psychedelic memories of resistance
Now, we hold each other and wonder
How we went the distance
Still legends in our minds
Together we sit in the old Ford
Remembering that the good times are gone, and
We will be moving on….
Cancer gave Girl a few months to live.
Determined to travel the afterlife side by side,
Together, they were found in each other’s arms
In a makeshift bed
In a 64’ Ford, called Good Times…………

This article was posted on Sunday, March 22nd, 2015 at 8:01am and is filed under Poetry.