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I am a Hippie

I am a Hippie

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Published by G. W. Wollenburg

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Published by: G. W. Wollenburg on Mar 19, 2007
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial

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01/01/2013

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I am a HippieByGabe WollenburgThe way that she held my head up while she shookher body back and forth didn't hurt, but it couldhave. The shaking was a scion of our love; it wasAnnie's simple, spastic way of reconcilingoverwhelming bursts of love with a primal need toshake. When we cuddled, for Annie, it's aninvoluntary movement , a piss-shake of love.Annie's gone now. It's my fault. She didn't want todate a hippie. I should have warned her.
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Oh, shes not dead. Not at all. She's quite well. She'sprobably got things more together than me. I'mtired most of the time. I guess she lives inManhattan. I live in Rockford. Illinois. Manhattan'sa long ways from here.If I saw her today, I'd ask her if she remembers thetime that we found a small version of the LeaningTower of Pisa in Zion. I'm sure she remembers it. Itwas the second last time we were ever together. Wehad been driving around at random and stumbledacross a tiny county park in which there was thissmall version of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. The sunwas shining, and the leaves were for the most partstill on the trees, but they were falling fast. Smallgusts of wind sent wild spurts of leaves tricklingdown on of us. She thought it was a riot. Shecrawled around on the mini-monument. She said itmade her feel like Godzilla, and the rain of leavesmade it feel like Christmas. She shrieked andgiggled, and kicked piles of leaves like a little kid. I
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sat on the bench, sneering at the thought of Godzillaat Christmas.If I saw her today, I would like to tell her what a foolI was. I would like to tell her that I was an idiot,letting myself be upset and waste the time we hadtogether. I think I was sick. I had a habit of wastingmy time away by grumbling, and letting things likeGodzilla at Christmas distract me. I should havefallen to my knees and thanked her for each andevery second she spent with me.I didn't really know it then, but I have no doubttoday, that on that day at the Leaning Tower I wassneering at her. I caught her eye, and she stoppedsuddenly. She stopped rolling in the leaves, stoppedher gleeful playing and giggling. Catching my eye,she quit smiling. Her mood changed like a needle being pulled across a record. Her face fell and shespoke.“What?” she asked.“Nothing.”“Well, theres' got to be something.”
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