Psychedelic Memoir

i sat

in that stairwell

nursing

some small

disappointment

that i had conjured

up

to be major.

a missed connection—

a star-crossed

dream of youth,

a minor hurt

that would be outshined

later

by

the real thing.

it was

the time

of openings

as well as closings.

soul covered dances

Aretha howling

bleeding into

the mystical sound

of a recorder,

the voices of

Grace Slick.

and

Marty Balin

surrealistic,

but no cover,

no pillow,

and no place

to rest;

just movement

and change

candles

in Chianti bottles

and Black boys

that wanted sex

i would

deny.

i am weary

and waxing

nostalgic

but,

is there

something

better

in this time

of forgetfulness

and mis-

fortune.

yet a new loneliness

tempered

by

time,

emptiness,

and

choice

has

surrounded

me.

Linda Tauhid

©️11/19/23