The Poem Here is the poem (I amended the title after recording it): Not going to San Francisco I am not with you there because I’m here, That is to say: New York, which isn’t near You, at least not geographically. To be in both cities, simultaneously, Requires a skill I have not yet learned. But I want to say: your city has burned Its way into my dreams and memory…. Your crazy hills and mythic Haight Ashbury, The flowers that I so wanted to wear, Like the song: fragrant and lovely in my hair. I was a young teen then in London, hot To leave, yearning to be what I was not: A revolutionary, making out On mattresses with long-haired men, about To protest at all that was wrong; to cry For peace, end war, abolish every lie, Distrust politicians absolutely, And adore my girlfriends resolutely, Believing there could be change so profound That mountains would turn a little in the ground - Just for the hell of it - and to prove Nothing is too massive to move If pushed by love and anger and the will Of youth to find a way. And I would kill Nothing for this dream, not one living thing, For all was sacred and this was my spring. And San Francisco was where you went to sing And dance and to celebrate everything That was the real America: black, white, Men and women of every gender, Loving each other, brave and tender; Anything possible, everything good, A life lived to the full, just as it should. They said: you’ll grow out of this vision; With maturity comes revision. And, sneeringly, called it idealism. We knew better: it was realism. The taste of freedom was on my tongue, But I was wearing school uniform, too young To travel far, and poor, and so I read, Watched films, and fantasized, instead. If you’re younger than me you have a view That’s longer than mine was, for you Are standing on my shoulders, and can see Farther and wider and infinitely Faster; for you have the word and the net, Enough information never to forget That some things have gone very, very wrong: We can no longer sing a self-love song. Flowers,"peace and love", now seem out-dated; The words may change, but still it must be stated: Yes, you can write your world exactly how You want it, and, YES, you can do it now. Sally Potter New York City 12 June 2005 Comment on this post
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