Hippie Story #6

back when me and Karl lived in a ramshackle hut

on the side of mountain buried in the woods

& drove a 1962 blue Chevy pick-up rusted

through in important places

we went to a party at a rich country

house fat with chintz sofas and curly

pink tongue spaniels, folks made their money

trading copper futures down New York way

I drank cocktails, Karl too, glasses

one after the other like skittling creatures

all downy and gulp

& when we got in the truck to go home

I fell right asleep

and only woke when

we shuddered to a stop and saw

by the headlights that our long dirt road had washed out

a wide crevasse down the middle

Karl fell out the truck door so dizzy

he had to hold onto the fender

I laughed till I was out of breath

the night was blackish blue, no moon

not a glimmer to see. I crept

sharply up the chill dark slope

Karl staggering behind me clutching tree to tree

until we arrived home

threw ourselves onto the horsehair mattress

in the morning we looked

at where we had walked skirting

chasms — exclaimed how we were still alive — god

protects drunks we agreed

About Karen To and Fro

Everything you didn't want to know about me!
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