Flower Children by Sarah Henry

Parsley, sage, rosemary
and thyme flavored
the eggplant stew
at a hippy restaurant.
Waiters brought
pitchers of juice.
A girl with a long-
haired boyfriend
was a braless wonder.
She wore bell-bottom
jeans with a flag 
on her butt.
The two would
live together a year
and marry, then
divorce a year later.
It was cool
to be a stereotype.

Ads on TV shouted,
“JOIN THE ARMY!
SEE THE WORLD!”
Vietnam---?
Dark jungles
lay ahead.

Work challenged
new recruits
at corporations.
Young employees
got in touch
with their feelings
during training. 
They became
sensitive
to the needs
of management.
They brought
their true selves
to the meetings.
In forty years,
they were self-
actualized.

The crowd retired
with pension
benefits.
It had been
helpful to plan
for their senior
years, since
Woodstock only
lasted three days.



Sarah Henry lives near Pittsburgh, where her poems have appeared in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, the Pittsburgh Poetry Review and The Loyalhanna Review. Sarah's work was also included in Red Eft Review, Soundings East, The Hollins Critic, Midnight Circus, What Rough Beast and three humor publications. She's a retired boomer.