1966… a baby in my back pocket.

I rode out on a wave never to return, at least not as before.

Looking for more than what was enough for those happy for the end of war.

Old enough to work, to make my own way, old enough to make my own mistakes.

A road less traveled, by I. Golden hair and flowered shirts, light shows, smoke filled rooms and poetry.

Walking barefoot in the parks, lying under the trees hoping there was more.

Dismayed by offerings of a world gone mad, finding it’s always been bad. How sad.

Yet joy was found in promises of change that never came. And pot to wake me up to possibilities and LSD to blow my mind.

To help me find a new way of imagining a new way of living.