When the Music's Over the first time a young person yields hir seat on the bus to me I will throw down / my target dressed in bell bottoms and tie-dyes / head band and peace sign / following me like I was holding a joint behind my ear / on my way to The Lizard King's grave / past the ghosts of American flags we flew upside down in front of the White House / back in the day when we loathed ourselves for all the faces our people trampled as we scrambled to hold the high ground / but the shame did not outlast the costume / and our zero sum games meant that ambition had to build a bonfire of our poems and guitars / we escaped Love Street by that light / but the suckers who staked themselves to 1968 right through the heart found that their blood at retail would barely pay for the time machine that set them down here to see how the clouds carry such regret for riders on the storm. Tom Barlow is an Ohio author of poetry, short stories...
Like the title says.