WEDNESDAY MORNING NOVEMBER FIFTH NINETEEN HUNDRED AND EIGHTY


my belly full of biscuits
gravy and black coffee
I spot the headline

my head full of
an autumn headcold
I spot the headline

dry and cozy inside of
the paper rack glistening
on the rain washed curb

Reagan Elected To Presidency

I hadn't voted the day before
hadn't a hometown to vote in
hadn't even remembered
needing one

having spent the season amid
the forests and river valleys
the islands and outer banks
and small postcard towns
of the old Confederacy

far from political parties
dance parties peace parties 
search parties wild parties
parties of the first part

But now the vote is in
and I know that somehow
the party's over

I don't know quite how
after all this is still
the seventies sort of

the forgotten decade of
bumbling White House spies
turned television celebrities

street protesters chatting
with helmeted cops over the
latest Fleetwood Mac album

the days of gentle blossoms
after lovemaking became legal
but before it became lethal
before you could die from
following your heart's desire

and not even my dog-eared
tarot cards can foretell
the diamond studded heart
of the coming decade

an orgy of lust replaced
by an orgy of avarice in
the government's secret
love affairs in the beds
of foreign drug lords

all while throwing America's
children into federal prisons
like unwanted witnesses
to Daddy's little secret

the safety net that
catches the rich and
strangles the poor like
dolphins in a tuna net

the descent of Jesus Freaks
into the gilded pit of
Pat Robertson's pocket

calling the wrath of Heaven
upon any Heathens who dare
lower their standards
or raise their taxes

the rise of the Pagans from
gentle obscurity into the
fame of New Age Shamans

dropping plastic amulets
into the cash registers
of the Goddess Industry

No more lazy days of sweet
summer smoke and long wild
hair tangling in the breeze

not with the War Against Drugs
speaking to the new fashion
in designer camouflage

No more will our generation
carry The Revolution on
the wobbly shoulders of
Drugs Sex and Rock'n'Roll

having sold the rights
to Madison Avenue and
the Reagan Revolution

Jimmy's sins of the heart
replaced by Ronnie's
sins of omission

Georgia's drawl upstaged
by Hollywood's twang
the Confessional bought out
by the Concessionaire

All at once I feel
old enough to vote
and young enough to
keep on walking
without buying the paper

While somewhere in
the still cool soil
beneath my aimless feet

the housekeepers of
the Underworld Hotel
make the guest beds
ready for the new season

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This poem is from On Pagan Roads Copyright © 2004 David Arv Bragi