Slipping into the cellar of my mind,

Descending through musty recollections

Each step downward, another step further into the past

The ages roll backward, appearing as strata of a canyon wall.

The flash of neon proclaims the seam of my teenage years

Walls aglow with black light posters,

strobe light pulsing with stomach-turning frequency.

A moment frozen in time by artificial lightning flashes.

This teenage incubator, a coveted refuge free of worldly judgement,

Provided a medium for the seeds of independent to take root,

where questions of gender incongruity could be examined

with an eye toward what the future might hold.

Here in my garden, among the flowers that were nurtured

skepticism and cynicism took root as the invasive thistle

Each bloom of confidence choked out by weeds of doubt

In corners they grew in spite of the absence of light

How to reconcile the bits, pieces, the feelings

Strewn strategically about the room

A can holding a Woodstock puzzle, filled with cheap weed

Proclaiming peace and love in the age of Aquarius

The corner bulletin board meanwhile

Displays a map of Vietnam torn from a newspaper

Its broad sweeping arrows proclaiming how simple it is to win this war,

A new age of peace powered by napalm and agent orange.

Even fifty years later I can still feel the agony in my soul.

The endless stream of questions without answers

Hopelessness over so much suffering, so many contradictions,

The scars of a lifetime marking the struggle to finally discover who I am.