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The Tail End
Yes, there was a mushroom
growing from the blue carpet in the bathroom.
You should have seen the kitchen.
Abdullah the landlord threw out all our possessions
for non-payment, threatened to pawn them.
We ate once a day at Pic-N-Save buffet
for $2.00, a bargain in 1975, then hitchhiked home.
It was the tail end of things like hitchhiking, or long hair
for shock value. Pre-tattoo, pre-piercing. The tail end of acid.
No craft beers or designer vodkas, the Ford Pinto the econonbox du jour.
No one watched tv was the lesson I gleaned from the times.
Johnny Carson was a square, Sinatra hated The Beatles,
everyone hated Nixon and the cops.
To boil it down, how Indians lived was our aim:
close to earth, day by day.
The American Indians planned for everything but us.
Though some confused us for Gods,
mushrooms and all.