Free Love Poem by Francie Lynch

The Sixties were hip.
Perhaps too hip with the sexual revolution.
It seems today's allegations of sexual misconduct
May spring from that mind-expanding era.
The fingers are pointing back to then,
And who knows what who was doing with whom,
Listening to Purple Haze
Through clouds of smoke, shared needles, and blotter;
Bra burning, card burning, flag burning.
The things one remembers after
So many years of clearing the cobwebs.
Did I get a boner back then and kiss a girl?
Did I invite a girl up to my room?
Did I touch a girl while dancing?
(OK. I probably snuck a grope, but hey, so did she)
I'm lucky I didn't get into politics or acting.
It turns out free love wasn't so free.