I’m at my computer remembering when back in the
long gone, free love, Haight-Ashbury highs sixties
some adventurous free spirited women
were called hippy chicks
I’m also wondering how women ever got
called hen’s babies
that aside, I’m thinking an ex hippy chick
would probably be a good match for me
we could talk about peace and love, Hendrix,
Woodstock, India, Ram Das, getting high on mantras
cosmic consciousness and Meher Baba
we could have our own two person commune
and talk about how groovy, heavy and far out
our new age resurrected Age of Aquarius lives were
she’d wear paisley dresses with flowers in her hair
I’d let my freak flag fly evermore
we wouldn’t need LSD and psychedelic trips
or getting ten feet tall like Alice
groovin’ together, spacing out
on our stars aligned soulmate love
would be all we’d need ever and forever.
Bob Boyd