When the Acid...

We were halfway to San Fransisco when the acid kicked in.

We had no plan, no objective, there was no agenda.

We arrived just as the sun peaked, the city so vibrant.

We were lost and we didn't care: we were found.

And somewhere in the myriad of bright colors, of aural pleasures,

In the chaos of combustion engines and sentient beings,

In the shadows of architectural marvels and prisms of light,

The world no longer made sense...

I came to several miles from Santa Cruz,

My eyes gazing to the edge of the ocean,

The familiar taste of salt in the air,

The napalm bursts of the engine....

I sat on the cliff for hours,

Listening to everything and nothing,

The cool mist of the sea blessing my feet.

Orange pink and melting, the sun had nearly set.

My eyes drifted down across the beach.

A tribe of natives stared at me,

Spears in their hands,

Pain in their hearts.

Car horns. Screech. Crack. Smash. Breaking glass.

Screams. Yells. Anger. Hatred. Suffering.

I looked over my shoulder as I drifted back,

Pondering the marvels of modern man.