retro girl

after work
at the State Department,
home late as usual
because of traffic
and putting a pot roast into
the oven,
she wants to know
where we could score a dime
bag of weed, to which I say,
huh.
she's showered and changed
into her new peasant
dress,
a lava lamp
is lit. she's dancing around
the living room
in her sandals,
her hair braided behind her head,
a peace sign painted
on her forehead.
a black light is on
beneath a poster of jimi
and Janis
at Woodstock.
a dime bag? I say out
loud, scratching my head.
i'm not sure,
I haven't seen my friend
junebug in over forty years,
he used to
have the good stuff back
in the neighborhood.
I think he's a stock broker
now, i saw him on facebbook
the other day.
i'll send him a message,
see if he can hook us up.