I ask her if she
remembers Woodstock, how
hard it rained,
the music,
the craziness of it all,
how we danced
and sang
threw our hands
to sky
when Janis Joplin
came on.
how we passed around
a bottle of
boone's farm wine.
she says no,
I was only nine.
oh. well,
what about when
the beatles came to
town?
oh never mind, just
come here and kiss
me. perhaps we should
make our
own history.
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