Old Yellow School Bus

Oh, how I remember that old, yellow school bus...
...it was our time machine to a different kind of life
                certain to be better for everyone
                removing the chains and restraints of the 1950's

                                          FREEDOM

women put on comfortable shoes,
left their June Cleaver mentality
in the kitchen
and went off to Law School, Med School,
Business School and the unheard of
task of running a large corporation
instead of only a washer, dryer and oven...

we would park that old school bus
on the side of a barren, lonely road
for an evening of campfire; burning of bras, draft cards and sometimes an American flag
although I thought that to be blasphemy-
and helped Michael row that boat ashore

we drove that old bus from place to place following the protest marches
...until the Kent State tragedy occurred...
  left us gasping for air and grasping for meaning

we got stuck in the mud at Woodstock
                        witnessed the burning of Detroit
                        bowed our heads for John, Martin and Robert
were ticketed in D.C. and arrested in Chicago
but the old yellow bus
          with its peace signs, flower power
          and free love slogans all around
delivered us through it all to some western exit
off Route 66
where it coughed, choked and spit for the last time...
then we each hitched a ride to San Francisco
yes, with flowers in our hair

they say the old, yellow school bus
still sits where we left it...
...now broken, old and rusty...
waiting for us to return, once again to follow the glory road - 
oh, how I remember...