ABOUT ME

I got a cat on one shoulder—crow on the other

whispering all acaw—cat says one thing

crow says opposite—cat says duck it

crow says pluck it—cat says burn it

crow says don’t you ever learn?

you got to abide, you got to ride shotgun

in a ‘60’s Chevy pickup with rusty fenders up the mountain

climb—you got to love him till the end of time

I wash my face in icy water

cat is perched on one side—crow on the other

I sob—he said he prized me—he was throb with promise

cat says chuck him—crow says buck him into cordwood

cat says spurn him—crow says don’t

you ever fucking learn?

I could blame this memoir on my first husband, I really could. Or maybe my parents. Or my parakeet, Benjamin, who flew out the window and lost himself in the wilds of 1950’s New York City, thus breaking my heart.

Now that I am an octogenarian I feel free to scatter responsibility everywhere, because I'm too old to care what people think and too deaf to hear what anyone says anyway. So, I have written Ennui Go, A Memoir of a Hippie Life, to describe what my life was like during the tumultuous 1960's and '70's. I have tried to convey the spirit of the times, at least my spirit – adventurous, crazed, curious, amoral – as I, my baby, and a variety of husbands, lovers, and friends careened across the country searching for happiness.

Of course, that sort of lifestyle eventually becomes a bit wearing, so for the last four decades I have been moderately sedate and immobile. I practiced law in a small town in Vermont until retirement age, and now live with my second husband on the shores of Lake Champlain, where I draw, write poetry, and watch ducks bobbing happily even in bad weather.