That ‘70s Show

 

The seventies were strange

Times—we were trying to find

Ourselves, though had to be

Told first that we were lost

 

We were the TV generation;

We drank Coke, the real thing,

And sixties protest signs

Became seventies pop art

 

I tried TM, tried to find out if

I am okay, because you are; I

Was too young for this, but it

Was the world we had

 

The generation before had

Failed us not simply for not

Respecting or responding to

Our questions but also for

 

Confessing that the life it

Would leave for us might and

Likely not be better than

Before (what the earlier

 

Generations owned)—we

Could protest with polyester

And acrylic, leisure-suits and

Lounge-lizarding; we could

 

Disco until we were done,

Then pack away our hopes

In a Star Wars kit bag, because

Leaving our universe back

 

And far away gave better

Light than warring over oil,

Other energies at home and

Abroad in new draft lotteries

 

Our cordless phones were

Bricks or in our muscled cars—

And something called the

Personal computer horizoned

 

We left narrow lapels and

Ties behind, prepared for E.T.

Calling, then Buelller leaving

Off the decade’s happy days

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