MOHAIR AND MOONPIES

All I know is there was this farm.
Acres of open spaces
to sit//stare//prance and dance.
It was a chance to connect
with the land//the bands//
the lovely nymph passing acid
and ass, a nice little lass
at that! Summer never felt hotter.
 Would’ve spotted her, a face
in the crowd//to remember//
to launch a thousand trips.
Piece//love//music
hair like Jesus//multitudes
of chicks and dudes,
beads and leather vests//chests bared
and fellas with no shirts too,
true confessions in August//
free love and granola.
Mohair and moonpies//
more music and sex and drugs.
Old man Max throws a bitchin’ party!

(C) Walter J Wojtanik, 2014

 

QUICKLY IN SEPTEMBER P.A.D. – DAY 17: WEAR YOUR SPIRIT