Summer/Fall 1999 • Vol. XXI No. 3/4 Poetry |

The Sexual Revolution

In that time of great freedom to touch  and get in touch, we lived on the prairie amid polite moral certainty. The sensate world seemed  elsewhere, and was. On our color television the president's body admitted he was lying. There was marching  in the suddenly charged streets, and what a girl in a headband and mini-skirt called communication. A faraway friend wrote  to say the erotic life was the only life. Get with it, he said. But many must have been slow-witted  during The Age of Enlightenment, led artless lives during The Golden Age. We watched the revolution on the evening news.  It was 1972 when the sixties reached all the way to where we were. The air became alive  with incense and license. The stores sold permission and I bought and my wife bought until we were left  with almost nothing. Even the prairie itself changed; people began to call it the Land, and once again  it was impossibly green and stretched endlessly ahead of

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