I was 25
and riding
down 44th avenue
at five
in my husband's
car in rush hour
he at the wheel
me barely alive
he was ranting and
raving
it was 1968
and in his frenzied
state
rebuked "women's
lib" glibly
and with some hefty
hate
It was then that
I reached
back underneath
my summer top
unhooked those most
familiar hooks
hooked for years
without a stop
hooked and now unhooked
for the last and
final time
It was black and
white hounds' tooth
a very bold design
once unhooked
the arms found their
way free
the first act of
freedom having to be
the car's decoration
the hoisting of
the colors
the flying of the
flag
size 34 B
from the antenna
going down 44th ave
in rush hour traffic
drag
in Wheatridge Colorado
on a long hot summer's
day
in 1968 it was a
beginning anyway
Vintage forty-three
a war baby me
a product of Romantic
love
of vanity and ego
of Dick and Jane
of silence and pain
of fear and guilt
of strength and
determination
and from there and
many other places
all along the way
I began to arrive
here at my destination
free and more than
just alive
flowering in the
desert
offering up my seeds
in thanks
connected to the
earth and sky
celebrating the
daily dance
of being one with
all
From here I write
these poems.
