Swing

I always regretted being
born too late, missing
the days of Beat poets,
wearing shades in dark,
smokey cafes.

Those hep cats marked
the moment when things
took a serious swing left,
slowly first, gaining speed
as the 50s faded away.

Another decade passes,
that pendulum had swung
about as far as it could
go, even accountants were
growing long hair.

In 1969 I wrote a paper
for class, comparing
Wolfe’s Kesey and his bus,
to Thoreau on that pond,
(I got an A.)

From transcendentalists to
to acid tests, took about
a hundred years, with
Hitler and the Klan between,
left to right and back again.

I guess it’s part of culture’s
inevitable rhythm, once an
arc reaches a peak, there’s
nowhere left to go, but
from where it came.

So here we are, surely
close to hitting the
right leaning wall.
I, for one, can’t wait,
to swing the other way.

© 2017 DM Shepherd

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