Summer Romance

She lived in a teepee
on the Roaring Fork
outside of Aspen
’69, and after work,
I’d go visit her
smoke a little dope
talk about our future
desperation and hope,

Cross-legged in a yoga pose
wearing hippie dress
I was barely twenty
in love, I guess,
Dark braided hair
skin tan from the sun
we’d usually make love
a form of youthful fun,

Often take a dip
the river, cold and clear
talk about what
we’ll be doing next year,
Back to Columbia
New York, Central Park
she was born in the Bronx
and sounded the part,

I was attending college
Colorado, down the way
a student deferment
living day to day,
The war in Vietnam
was still raging on
my hippie girlfriend
surely to be gone,

So, I laid there naked
she was naked too
on an itchy wool blanket
Slumgullion Stew,
All our parts and pieces
simmering in a pot
she looks into my eyes
and asks me: what?

What do I want
I really don’t know
a summer romance
waiting for the snow,
She knows the answer
I can only guess
I want more and more
she wants less and less,