Gunshy Martyr

He loved trees People called him a tree hugger, but he insisted that the trees hugged him. Marijauna trees and peace beads were his mantra, and he said that sex was an expression of love, sacred and holy, he lived in a time before AIDS. He used to sit in the shade and ponder life. Beating bongo drums he laughs and says absurd things like, "Rainbows play the beautifullest music." I wish I knew then what I know now. I would have listened harder. I giggled, high off life as he stroked my hair and told me stories of people turning into trees people who parted red seas and what it was like to be free. He laughed, high off pot and told me about sex drugs and rock and roll Something about Jim Morrison Jimi Hendrix Janis Joplin I liked the way the J's sounded It didn't matter what he was saying His voice filled me with something indescribable I later labeled that feeling 'love' Before he left he said something about peace protests and police brutality. He said not to be a gunshy martyr, and he kissed me on the forehead. It was the last I saw of him. I remember something wet on his cheeks as he turned away I figured it was just starting to rain. I also figured he was coming back. He didn't, and I got a sunburn waiting for him that day.