AFTER 1963

Perhaps we were less deceived
Than first we believed
In nineteen-sixty-three.
Legs, The Beatles, moon-talk
And JFK going down that
Long slide to eternity.

Later, there was Dylan
Vietnam killing
And Mini’s both
Mechanical and mercurial
While all the time
We were shooting a line
That was both entertaining
And entrepreneurial

This wasn’t the way we were;
A generation of graven anonymities
Their money-God waxing
While free-thinkers wane.
Well are you shot of it, pal:
Nothing, like something,
Is happening again.

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