Sometimes the longing for the past is like a constant
hunger by the underfed. Summers were endless and
I was the first to wear shorts and sandals in town;
had bought them in Aruba, coming off a ship going
home I met my mother and sister, they were shocked
no one dressed frivolous back then. I wore a T shirt
too on it was written: “I Love New York.”
Mother thought I ought to change into long trouser,
wear a proper shirt, preferably white, and tie, sister
was impressed though. I loved my youth to be different
from the norm. But time was changing fast, five years
on, everyone wore shorts and had long hair, jogging in
the park I was the only one, now you can´t walk for joggers.
I started this revolution, but where is my plaque?