If Ivana had seen Branson High School basketball games circa 1975 to 1978 and seen an unfortunate…
Thomas R. Barton, JD


“Yes , but not that much”

She said

somewhat puzzled,

to young Jimi

when he asked

“Are you experienced?”

He wore strange clothes,

Silk and ribbons , bright colors

in that novel hippy style .

He played a crazy solo

on his first love,

his custom made

electric guitar.

He played well, young Jimi

With his left hand,

and with his tongue

sometimes, on a whim.

All that amidst the turmoil

of that strange

and restless time

marked by Monterey,

by Woodstock,

the Isle of Wight

and… yeah, by

Good morning Vietnam!

Now I know

none of us were experienced at all,

least of all young Jimi.

He played his guitar

and he laughed

as he sang

Purple Haze, Foxy Lady,

Woodoo Chile…

Forgive me if I Kiss the Sky.

One day Jimi died.

Frozen in time

chosen to remain

Forever young.

He was older than me then,

much younger than I am now.

Who was the lucky one?

Why am I still alive?

Was it my sentence

or my prize?

Or some special plan

for all that experience

Jimi had asked,

to acquire

I was given the time.

Should I cry

or must I cheer?

I don’t know about that

I am still unclear.

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