Some Years Ago

Driving with my dad down desolate streets
On a dusty Saturday afternoon in 1967
Melancholy negroes walk down sad sidewalks
Quite Mexicans pass them sulking
Dad has the radio on listening to loud nothing
I talk nonsense and he pretends to care
We pull into a sad parking lot
And veritably jump out of the car
Dad runs an errand that bores me
I hum a Beatles song and imagine a baseball game
I look on proudly as Dad makes a purchase
Then he sees an acquaintance and chats
He proudly introduces me, his son
I am polite to the white haired acquaintance
Then we are back in the car
Dad cusses about a bad driver
I am used to this
Looking out the window I see a lot
And it is all nothing
Asphalt concrete broken down buildings
Boring drive until we turn up a street where there are
Hippies
Of course dad makes derisive cracks about them
I think they're interesting and different and maybe fun
(I've yet to be high but its coming)
We finally get to leafy neighborhoods
Happy houses with children in front yards playing
Dad pull the Oldsmobile into our driveway
He races me to the front door
He always wins cause he's the dad