Saturday, July 25, 2020

Haverford Dude

I loved you like my own face before my parents were born.
That way they could not disapprove of me, the freshman
Malnourished, tripping, ambling around Bryn Mawr
Wearing a used Mexican navy sailor's shirt bought at R.I.S.D.
Painted with psychelic day-glo eyes
In a bandana and brown felt hat that I'd found on the road,
Sporting ponytail and threadbare bluejeans
Unshaven but not fully bearded either
Living on black coffee and iceberg lettuce
Covered with croutons, garbanzo beans and Baco Bits.
Eighteen years ancient, believing I was an I Ching sage
Long before reincarnating as a white American teenager,
I inhaled Plato's Republic and weed, listening to
Disraeli Gears, high on coke, quaaludes and Michelob,
With an uneasy feeling as I paused to consider this:
My thirty-fifth acid trip was not more nor less
Than a casual cup or three of electric punch,
Poured hastily over all those drugs around nine p.m.,
Knowing my parents would arrive for a visit
Tomorrow morning.
Oh dear god!
The panic,
The panic

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