no red wall.
no red button free-fall.
lives mattered without malice
without protocol
all lived by what appeared to be simple means
ranches, capes, basic joists
dreaming the American dream
nothing trite about what we understood
we had more than most
most did not give would they could
saving the earth by way of the dime bag
no pale ale
just bong hits and bonfires
redemption found when a dollar had been given
on Sundays as a basket passed
too young to understand Nixon
old enough to mourn John
we were discovering Lady Chatterlay’s Lover
our bodies were ourselves
living among bathtub Mary’s and American flags on the front lawn
set in stones that were thrown
‘you were right…or, you were wrong’
i can remember hearing of Elvis
where he was
how he had been found
to my young mind i pondered…
‘how quickly life can be upstaged without a sound’
