The Tribe at 35...and drunken students

Another new one from "The Morgantown Suite Poems"...

The Tribe + 35

The scent of patchouli and strawberry,
Mixed with sandalwood and coconut.
A metaphor…or a mistake, taking shape
In the mind of the lost soul, freedom
As a new religion.

Walls decorated with pointed images
Of war and peace and love and music.
Lennon and cartoon mating ducks,
Trying to find some shelter in times
Of great uncertainty.

Now, you are a bar. Where truth is sought
But never caught, in the bottom
Of a bottle, youthful exuberance
For pointless protests, une generation perdue,
True only to its self.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

The Tribe was a headshop, on the edge of campus (West Virginia University), the first building in the notorious "Sunnyside" area that became, for a time, the bar zone for campus. A friend of mine worked there and I went in there once or twice to look around. I was a very cloistered and conservative young man, so I was never into that whole scene, except in my head. The intense smells of the incenses, the clothes, posters, music, books...it all seemed like some exotic distant planet.

Now, it is just another faceless place for underage students to get drunk. No matter how you feel about the tide of conservatism in this country, it is hard to look at the crowds in any of Morgantown's bar districts (they now have a few) on a Friday or Saturday night and feel any sense of hope for America or belief in the moral superiority of the American way of life.

The Pantherization work has begun...Lord, I've bitten off, not more than I can chew, but a certain mouthful.