before the age of monstrosities

 

when a small comfortable home
was just enough

 

 

yard karma

 

July 3, 1971
driving my friend’s family’s Lincoln Continental
from Edgartown to Vineyard Haven
picked up few hitchhikers along the way
someone turned on the radio
to the news that Jim Morrison had died

 

 

erased

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

there were signs
during the summer of 1968

she couldn’t remember my name

 

 

 

hippies always welcome

 

paradise lost

 

 

my dad was a blue collar worker, an electrician
at one time he worked three jobs just to keep us afloat
going out to eat was a luxury and usually meant hitting up the little italian joint down the street
I liked playing the jukebox

one saturday he surprised us with a road trip to the shore
we swam in the ocean and stayed in a motel
I thought it was paradise