Rose, the loveliest of pagan namings,
see clear to another day
The past a foreign country:
Where we gave so much away.
Happy trails
Landed us in Golden Gate Park
San Francisco

Palo Alto was a world apart
Looking for a revolution
And this was it:
No empty-headed technologies
No silicon in the valley
Just a box of rain

Such a long-long time gone by.
Such a short-short time to be there
Where God don’t check no papers
Black, white, hip, square

Loss of hope was not allowed,
No fear, no favours. no cynical cravers
A good man’s currency counted in notes
Life composed of all the unremembered kindnesses
That keep us afloat. That prescience still wows me
Just learning how to be.

No consumers No hoarders No orders from above
Living in harmony and learning how to love.