Woodstoked
by Sari Grandstaff
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you get used to the hippie language
living in a 60's stronghold
wearing stained glass garments,
for the tourists to gaze through
a regular roadside attraction
of drummers and dream catchers
junkies and blanket people
riding on the village greenbacks
droplets glisten on dreadlocks
twisted and insistent on
soaking up the juice of
ditch sinners and hothouse weeds
kicking up dirt around the tax base
it's a steady conundrum
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