Old Freak Street




Freak Street

 

Remember the long summer days of the 1960s?

We were either passing chillum and floating over the temples

of this god-graced valley or sauntering along the streets

in our checkered shirts and loose-flowing pants 

to buy half a kilo of grass—for a special price of 40¢

at a government-approved, family-run convenience store.

From the rooftops of cheap Thamel restaurants,

we saw the ghosts of our past suspend mid-air, as we

chewed on a hashish toasted egg, sipped tepid ganja milk tea,

and took long drags of the strong pot, breaking the silence

with rasping coughs, with anecdotes of a life left back home,

with young Cat Stevens crooning from record players.

And after an endless series of stimulating conversations

we lay slumped over the restaurants’ tables—too dazed

to say another word: our chakras slowly aligning themselves

as the prayer wheels spun quietly in the background, mocking

the noiseless hum and balderdash of the West, inviting us

to stay for another year in the quiet comforts of a sleepy town

slowly awakening from the lull of a midday siesta, yawning.

 





Poetry by MetaPoetics The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 71 times
Written on 2022-04-12 at 17:14

Tags Hippie  Beatnik 

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Uncle Meridian The PoetBay support member heart!
The language and imagery are so inexhaustibly rich, so refreshingly sharp, that I'd have sworn you were there in the '60s! Marvellous!
2022-04-12


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Nicely done, a well-wrought, artful sketch of life as many lived it long ago. I spent considerable time in similar neighborhoods in those days.
2022-04-12