The Hippie Girlfriend

She’d always ask him to tell her a story, and he could only come up with one. Her. At first, it would be endearing, how they could stroll and feel each other’s skin graze upon one another, the light air, a spring morning. It didn’t matter when, maybe him sitting at the counter with a fresh cup of coffee, she might walk behind and let her fingertips play with the hair of his ponytail while she found her chair across from him – both carrying morning smiles. The room could gradually fill with laughter as the two shared stories with each other, how remarkable it might be that ‘we are both sitting here right now’ and our lives have traveled so many different directions until this meeting. She might point to his eyes and he would speak to her braids, hers being a part of her life he could remember going back many many years, and as lovely as ever today. He could look into her eyes and think to himself there really is nothing more in my life than I need right now than this moment itself. And he would be afraid to tell her that for fear she might run away. She might reveal the same to him later on that ‘if you knew what I was thinking’ you would run away so quickly. They would smile at each other again and think just how lovely this moment could be, let’s hang onto it forever.

Both would then take a moment to pause and imagine time, look into one another’s eyes for a moment and realize so many decades had gone by, how blessed may we be to see such light in each other’s eyes … effortless, only spontaneity.

Theirs is a happy reunion, decades later when it seemed the planets had aligned in such a way to allow their lives to intermingle in a manner profound, that each day would be spent talking about how magical these times are, and how such a quiz upon our lives seems so confusing, yet simple. The coffee would be shared through the morning, and she would teach him how to cook again, and they would laugh at how easy the process was for both him to put together a meal and her to understand that someone might care for her, and she might care for someone as well.

He would go upstairs to ready himself for a morning walk and brushing past her room notice a sundress hanging in her bedroom, thinking only to himself, I don’t know if anyone could ever look so lovely as she will the day he might be graced with her presence in some outdoor venue in the week’s ahead. He would tell her that story, and then she would return with one of him standing in her doorway with a book bag and strap around his shoulder waiting for her to open the door. Utterances that came out of their mouths were words like charming, and elegant, and real, and now.

They took that first walk together in the snow at a familiar childhood island, where trails of walkers well established took them around the perimeter of the water. She broke the trail for a moment to show him some cut up wood whose faces of circled slice looked like turkeys with their rings and ruffled edges. He thought for a moment whether he should just agree, but then upon further glance he realized she was right, and the markings were a perfect playground for a thanksgiving treat. This walk seemed to hold a special promise having brought two lives together whom hadn’t known one another’s paths for years, yet could remember a name, a time, a memory like it was yesterday. By the time they reached the car, the crisp air of a late winter morning frosting cheeks, he thought to himself, and he wondered. They had been together now for less then a day, and he was about to say good-bye. (Should I kiss her? Should I ask her for a kiss?) His mind was running fast, and he felt like a teenager. He smiled and held her close, and she didn’t resist. He asked if he could and she said yes. That morning, in the parking lot of a childhood memory, the two young lovers embraced and shared a kiss, one that would send shivers through them both not just in that moment, but in decades of time that had been lost with one another and now found again.

We all wish to believe stories like this will go on and time allows chapters to be added, moments to be reminded, and new memories to be created. Thus will begin a retelling of a lovely chapter in the life of ‘the hippie girlfriend.’

© Thom Amundsen – prologue – 5/2021

200 Miles

Would we imagine seeing so far in our lives

we could predict or at least know

beauty we perceive eventually arrives

within the miles we might choose to go

to find her heart, hold his smile

we are consumed is a mystique on trial.

~

I once knew someone in a decade long ago,

where we were children by standard in age

and yet the romantic airs of a time shall go

as a summer breeze will define this adage

as memory in a nostalgic interlude swoon

for do we seek elegance inside our moon.

~

Could be there might a confusion over come

the wonder of how lives would today become

so lovely, so unimaginably important in eye

those places we go to search our silent sigh.

In his smile there is a rather pleasant curl

of lip that would define his own head a swirl.

~

Love might be a language we will all desire

if in favor known travels a passionate fire.


© Thom Amundsen 1/2021

A Walk Inside A Dream

Took a walk inside a dream,

seemed the same,

each waking moment,

a breath of wonder

then wander back inside

visit old friends

stir memories of an

attitude

the sort of look in an eye

when we might fall into

the shell of our selves

inside the dream

everything happens

we sometimes wish away

from ourselves.

The next day

When a conscious reminder

that dream last nigh

look around the space

the people drifting by

could be there then

might be there

now

waiting for an arrival

every stone unturned

when the natural

tendency might be to scream

inside a dream

taking a walk

a wander

into a waking day

Isolated Storm Clouds

See them and imagine the future,

an ominous purple haze of opportunity,

for it is the chaos of our lives,

allows change to overcome the static.

 

Seek a society of forgiveness,

the travels of pain sometime hidden,

yet the exposure to the elements

often a truly ominous test resilient.

 

When washed ashore in crude oil,

stains did seem to be eternal,

with each soaking, the mind,

nearly gave up on finding shelter.

 

It is in the addict’s eye

the storm will always remain,

it depends only upon a realization

that life contains sweet horizons.

 

We would only give attention

to the happiness we dwell upon,

a city scape, an ocean view,

a soft breeze in a given milieu.

 

The deep and threatening wall

of circumstance that will prevail

is only Nature’s manner of suggestion

we all would know to typically fall.

Beyond Moments

If in breath, a gasp, an eye glance,
worlds interact with indifferent realities,
only to provide expression,
if only then might we understand.

While a horizon away,
a family struggles to recognize
the wealth of their local dream,
while on the other side, a smile.

If during some compelling summer
we all recognize theirs is an august,
might we in that brief moment,
give certainty to everyone’s value.

While walking toward the sun,
a fellow or perhaps her inclination
might be to know truth is love,
could all possibility turn virtuous.

We listen to the dreams of the others
oft beyond consideration of our own.

Sometimes I Stop

There is that occasion when the world evolves,

and I, for the sake of I, stay static,

I stop,

I don’t smell  the flowers, or even walk in the humidity,

instead,

I am frozen in time, wondering just how many hours

will drift past my eyes before I can

know,

before I might understand,

why the motion of my mind seems to be

in a perpetual state of idle.

 

When these episodic windfalls of clarity,

reach my sub-conscious,

I sometimes wonder about perception,

not about yours or theirs or anyone beyond my world,

but more about them,

those I love, the children, the voices, the people

that all know where I come from,

they all know the

affliction,

the seemingly easy out I have in my lexicon of words

to justify just why I want to cry.

 

It seems though,

in the silence of any room, any vacant space,

it is apparent, that I will stay here, forever.

“I Read The News Today, Oh Boy” – John Lennon

lennon

He always did have a reason to speak, when his lyrics would wind our mind,

“Watching the wheels turn,” he seemed clearly in command of his time,

While we the listeners would be in a constant trance, a mellow sweet remind

How easily his lyrical mastery could make a dull afternoon be sublime.

 

Often the names and faces of humanity lose their certain authenticity

When this our society continues along a road so designed to fail.

We gather steam to criticize the Man, the friend, the neighbor; duplicity

Becomes an only nostalgic desire, when spinning  our arms flail.

 

Oh to hear it said by a pundit’s Machiavellian tongue, meant to misconstrue

We rest our mind to know we haven’t a need to hear it all, day, long.

Rather everyday a glance in the sky to recognize the world is only as true

As a remarkable miracle, allows our hypocritical lives to finally belong.

 

Yes, “it was 20 years ago today, Sergeant Peppers taught the band to play”

We all took in the moment, singing “all you need is love”- live life this way.

 

Is This Really Liberal Thinking?

Last night I had a conversation with two people I have tremendous respect for, the subject quickly turned to politics, and I openly expressed my dislike of our current state of affairs. I spoke of my dismay with our current POTUS’s views and motives, and the dialogue took an icy turn to defense and validation. The three of us bandied back and forth for many minutes about the pros and cons of what we believed in earnest. The positive takeaway from the conversation is the three of us finished forty five minutes later, and together walked out of the room, smiling, and said good bye for the night. I think it is important to recognize that people can have honest, often animated conversations that include their views, without the fear of character assassination afterward. That was my takeaway from yesterday’s debate with two people whose opinion I value.

A concern that evolved from our dialogue is their personal anxiety with the inability to be open about their views around their own community, specifically the school they attend. I’ve heard this conversation before, and the tone has been similar in that there is a general fear with expressing one’s political views no matter the side that someone carries or believes, because someone on the other side is always going to be waiting to pounce with wrath and indignation. The subject of a divisive culture is prevalent in our American society today, and both sides of the argument are easily persuaded to lay the blame for this current mindset upon the other, rather than step back for a minute and process their own contribution.

In a democratic society, the true definition of democracy is to suggest an open debate always exists that merits argument and opinion from all sides. Democracy itself is dependent upon actions that inherently support social equality. I wonder if anyone can look about their own personal world beyond their backyard and see this belief in action. I’m afraid not. Instead we are talking about walls, and bans, and now steadfast agreements of a scorned party to vote down another party’s proposals in a unified attempt to recreate what we as a people have witnessed for decades upon decades of political ignorance. I’m afraid putting a narcissistic, megalomaniac into a position of power will not change things anytime soon. In fact, even if I could be in complete agreement with any of the current administration’s  proposals, which I am not, I just cannot believe that ‘the people’ will rise to support those ideals in a complete and unified manner any time too soon. There is far too much anger in people’s minds right now, and it is evident first, in the children.

We live in a pretend away society. The sort that would suggest if we don’t talk about it, then the repercussions will not impact us directly. Until it does, when the ramifications of our society begin to knock on our front door. In the meantime, let’s sit in sidewalk cafes and debate the subject until we are lacking oxygen due to vitriolic fuels slapped back and forth between good souls trying to justify and rationalize their own way of thinking. I sat in that very coffeeshop this morning, in between two paired conversations, where one side lauded the efforts of our current administration, while the other decried the present swing of governmental bureaucracy. If the two pair had literally gotten up and walked through each other they would have magically disappeared as their parallel universe would have quietly combusted with little fanfare.

Growing up as a child I had a certain advantage. I was raised in a divisive household, a political separatist movement. My mother and father had differing views, and for most of my childhood and well into my teens, and later adult life they proudly canceled each other out at the ballot box. Here’s the important thing to remember though. No matter how differing their views were, and there certainly were heated debates over the years, they at the end of the day, had respect for one another’s viewpoint. So me, I learned how to weigh both sides without forgetting that people could actually get along together, quite well actually with differing opinions.

How do we possibly get started with our current state of affairs? I think our first objective is to recognize that liberal or conservative thinking do and will cancel each other out forever. That’s not the issue. I think the solution exists elsewhere and somehow we as a society need to recognize that path, together.

 

 

When Movement Stills

A quiet day,

voices around,

my mind is in full motion,

imagining everything I want to be

afraid of,

dissecting the morning I said hello,

and the failed response in return,

wondering about the future,

starting the same rotation,

again and again and again and

I love to play this game,

makes me feel alive when I can realize

nothing will ever change.

~

well, it could you know,

life does happen,

I might string out a dozen cliches

turn on easy-listening,

loosen my belt,

close all the window shades,

lock the doors,

step into the garage,

finally, after all that is …

walk outside and realize this world,

so much to be had it would be a shame

to stay on the couch the rest of the afternoon.

Do We Lose?

When we let go, we leave behind a part of ourselves

yet I do have to wonder if we ever really lose

we certainly sometimes cannot return to the shelves

of who we were, yet perhaps we do sing the blues

~

In that frame of mind, a good song can bring me a tear

where then I feel my heart, that growing ache of loss

is pounding in my chest in such a manner I can often fear

that end result of wondering when love I would then toss

~

aside like a feeling I never really took the time to understand.

If I recall the lives I have encountered in five decades of trying

I sometimes forget there is meaning beyond my own demand,

somewhere in the annals of passing nostalgia I am still crying.

~

There is a constant messsage board in my mind, lays out letters

a sort of visual keyboard, that if I think really hard and long

might shout at me with the reality of who I am, but only utters

soft reminders – there’s never a quiet word of where I belong.

~

last night a distant friend said goodbye to me without having to speak

I simply knew the time was right to realize a shift in parallel thought.

When while I wanted to know more, I couldn’t ask them to seek

me out again, until perhaps some other time when, I might be sought.

~

I do know today when I dance alone in my own little forest of solitude

the rhythm speaks gently to the notion that somewhere, sometime I did

exist, and it was then I could realize with the right sort of gracious attitude

I might somehow conceptualize truth in some new epiphany less sordid.

~

I wonder if when we take that next adventure, we will have a chance

to know that everyone behind us wishes only our soul might advance.