Summer of '78

  

We were the Offspring of the seventies;

gamin roaming suburbs, barefoot, filthy.
Mothers working, fathers unknown -
friends, cousins and siblings sharing beds.

Joy was a row of backyards, fenceless;
stealing apples and braving stitches -
learning about birds and bees
in giggles under trees.

We ate sun kissed innocence for breakfast -
believing eternity was now; when else?

No one knew the time of day,
but for when the street lights lit –
children’s names echoed through the dusk;
ghostlike dinner bells, hot dogs again!

We followed the loudest calls
as if all were related
or Pinocchio’s donkeys –
ate at any table that would feed us.

Our moms, all too young and pretty -
tapped painted toenails to
Creedence Clearwater Revival
looking out back doors,
baked in tanning oils
as if they could dance;

smoking cigarettes in the twilight
with wistful eyes and faraway looks;
lost-hippy-divas grounded with kids -

sleeping beauties
awakened too soon.

We learned!

Written May 20, 2005