Issue 102, Spring 1987
Who’d known about soybean stew or what
A camshaft did or how asparagus grew?
Even the much-mowed grass was new to those
Who’d wandered once where easy-listening remotely
Shilled the subconscious, floors were buffed daily,
And clerks grimaced their way to coffee breaks.
The precise anonymity of affluence seemed,
If not deadly, then less-than-alive.
A new age was wanted—being an old age most
Were glad to see go by—yet a new age now.
If it had been, as the grandfolks recalled, too cruel,
Yet that had been its beauty too.
If such a life were now not necessity
But something freely fashioned, perhaps
Such freedom could stanch aggrievement and seed
The ultimate back-to-the-land conspiracy.
Off they went—emboldened, generous, and unversed.