The other day sittin around bitchin and moaning about how I missed out on the Sixties. You know,....how my parents never let us off the farm; how life would have been so different, so better.
No one sitting at the picnic table outside the apartment complex is buying my bitching. Their eyes range from boredom to skepticism to loathing. A voice interrupts our debate, a voice from above....from the second floor stairway.
"The Sixties is internal." She smiles at us all puffing on our cigs. She smiles on our weak dispositions. She smiles down upon our confusion and sense of being lost. I turn away from her, to the table of companions for help. But there is no one to be seen. How odd. Where had my companions gone so quickly? Where had.......gone? I couldn't remember his name. I couldn't remember any of their names. Bizarre!!
"Don't worry about them. You never really needed any of that crowd." She speaks as my eyes search the courtyard for signs of my friends.
"Did you see where they went," I ask increduously?
"They're gone.....just like The Sixties." Her calm voice is firm, definitive.
"Bullshit!!" Fear is creeping in like a fog.....cold and clamy.
"It's true," she says. "You create things in your mind."
Now she is closer, near the bottom of the stairway. I feel threatened.
"So what's your story?.....what are you doing here," I say defensively?
She pauses on the steps...... that mischievious smile, those piercing eyes. She speaks.
"Of course.......that is entirely up to you."
No one sitting at the picnic table outside the apartment complex is buying my bitching. Their eyes range from boredom to skepticism to loathing. A voice interrupts our debate, a voice from above....from the second floor stairway.
"The Sixties is internal." She smiles at us all puffing on our cigs. She smiles on our weak dispositions. She smiles down upon our confusion and sense of being lost. I turn away from her, to the table of companions for help. But there is no one to be seen. How odd. Where had my companions gone so quickly? Where had.......gone? I couldn't remember his name. I couldn't remember any of their names. Bizarre!!
"Don't worry about them. You never really needed any of that crowd." She speaks as my eyes search the courtyard for signs of my friends.
"Did you see where they went," I ask increduously?
"They're gone.....just like The Sixties." Her calm voice is firm, definitive.
"Bullshit!!" Fear is creeping in like a fog.....cold and clamy.
"It's true," she says. "You create things in your mind."
Now she is closer, near the bottom of the stairway. I feel threatened.
"So what's your story?.....what are you doing here," I say defensively?
She pauses on the steps...... that mischievious smile, those piercing eyes. She speaks.
"Of course.......that is entirely up to you."
