Mag 153, 1/27/13, "Good to see ya"

                                                         

                                                                             Charlotte Gainsbourg, AnOther

     I sat rocking in the rocking chair, watching.

In her tied dye smock, over shorts

 Charlotte was leafing through

mine and my sisters collection of records.

"How do you like living on the west coast ?"

She didn't answer for a few moments " Ah-

She looked up and refocused on me "We like it!"

She and her older boy friend had packed

their belongings into the 'Peace mobile'-

a Volkswagen bug; and driven to California.

They eventually landed at an Ashram-like

property; with a community of 20 year old freaks.

" We are building a huge garden!"  She held

up the sleeve of the record she had chosen

and put the covers on the floor.

A bit of Bob Dylan rose wraith-like 

around the room after she set the needle down.

" So did you get any of my letters ?"

I had written three and heard nothing

in the six months they had been out there.

"I got two-" she shrugged , "I just haven't had time

for anything,since we opened the food Co-op.

At that moment Mark slouched into the room

"Hey-" came with a peace sign

and a flush of incense slammed over patchouli oil.

I leaned my head back,

Now three of us were in here, bare foot 

and twitching our hands to Dylan's wail- 

any hope for the future of this conversation wafted 

right out the window joining the insistence of Cicadas.