![]() My Time in the FogA Poem by dan![]() a fantasy piece about what may have been had I used drugs in my youth...that's right![]() My Time in the Fog
As I look back to the days when I grew all that hair All the ‘square’ people would point and they’d stare, With my copy of ‘High Times’ tucked into a pocket, I’d bop down the road, eyes popped out of their sockets. We’d swallow dots on paper, which flavor’s the best? All these shapes fly past, is this a Rorschach test? There’s Lucy in the sky, which gem is she wearing? Running yellow brick roads with my tendons all tearing.
Writing protest songs against the war machine, My hair may be dirty but all my good bud is clean. All the kids that were preppy would turn up their noses When we flashed the peace symbol, struck protest poses. We’d sit around and smoke weed till the bad went away, Going seven whole years while never missing a day. Now my days are much shorter, I’m now an adult, I won’t tell of the days I belonged to a cult.
Don’t know if that weed has maligned me a bit, But I will let you know if I ever do quit.
dan © 2014 e © 2015 danReviews
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