Old Hippies

Sparse-framed, reticent, particular,
the old hippies come in to the market 
on odd weeks
for what they cannot grow
or raise.  

A friend sneers at them,
calls them un-American.

I hear they’ve got a sod roof on the house.
Life underground:
a few acres
and a 1978 Ford pickup.

Here on the grid we’ve got
fear, troubles,
and the grind.  We all 
talk too much.

Hey, hippie,
go hug a tree.  Go
bathe in the snow.
Get a job.  

Sparse,
quiet, 
don’t associate with us
unless they have to —

un-American
bastards, get in the trough with us
and bring some eggs or something else 
to eat.