war protest

a long time
ago, or perhaps
you prefer once
upon a time, when
i was younger,
much younger than
i pretend to
be right now, we,
and by we, i mean
my friends and i
would go downtown
to protest the war.
we were skinny
and had long hair,
and we were very
underage and drinking,
all of us with illegal
smiles on our lineless
faces, and there
was music, always
concerts on
the mall, ragged
loud music rattling
in the shadows of
the white house,
the capitol dome
and the monuments.
and there was
the reflection pool
long and black,
shallow, full of similar
minded young people,
shirtless, braless,
some with signs,
some singing, some
chanting things
like hell no, we
won't go, or one two
three four, we don't
want your f....king
war. quite clever
we were, and then we'd
run as the cops would
chase us out on
horseback, tear gas
filling the grey air,
and we were laughing
still, trying to avoid
capture. some things
have changed, some
haven't. some never will.