The Campus Circus

During my Freshman year,
The campus was a hotbed
Of radical political theories
And student activism.
It was a time of hippies
And Flower Children,
Free love, chemical stimulants
And a social revolution
That turned education upside down
And the country inside out.
For the most part,
I was a by-stander,
Observing from the sidelines,
Watching the circus go by.
I dressed the part, however.
My uniform consisted of
A pair of large, floppy,
Stripped, bell-bottom pants,
A florescent Nehru Shirt
And beach sandals.
We were the Woodstock generation.
The university pulsated
With the rock music
And protest lyrics,
And I soaked up
The chaos of it all
Like a proverbial sponge,
Blissfully unaware
Of anything beyond
My small universe.