I would have been a feminist before
the term had currency, but I could not
enlist or join a movement; I abhor
the politics I’d rather I forgot.

I knew I was bohemian, except
the notion was consistently confused
with hippie peace-and-love: specifics swept
beneath the rug of jargon overused.

But now I balance in life’s middle span,
cocooned within the eye of hurricane,
discovering my generation ran
away from bright ideals and bold disdain
and left me here, upright, alone, and free
to comprehend my personality.

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