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My Hippie Grandmother By Reeve Lindbergh
I have a hippie grandmother. I'm really glad she's mine. She hasn't cut her hair at all, Since nineteen sixty-nine.
I live in town on Pleasant Street, With Mom and Dad and Russ. But Grandma lives behind the hill, And drives a purple bus.
She has a cat called Woodstock. A fish named Tiny Tim, And a boyfriend with a big mustache. (Her boyfriend's name is Jim.)
She has plants on every windowsill. Green vines grow in the shower. There are posters in her bedroom, They say LOVE and FLOWER POWER!
I help her in the garden. We hoe the peas and beans. We eat cracked-wheat-and-honey bread, In bare feet and ripped jeans.
We're at the Farmer's Market, By noon each Saturday. We sell some bread and vegetables, And some we give away.
Sometimes I go with Grandma, To picket City Hall. If nobody comes by, she says, "Guess we can't win'em all!"
At night she gets her banjo out, And Jim gets his guitar. We sing the song "Amazing Grace", And wish upon a star.
The moon shines in the window. The cat purrs at my feet. I curl up warm and fall asleep, On a psychedelic sheet.
My mother is a lawyer. My dad works on TV. My grandma says someday I'll find, The perfect job for me.
She says I could be President, Or go to outer space. Or find the cure for cancer, And save the human race.
I tell her there's one other thing, I really want to do: "Become a Hippie Grandmother, So I'll be JUST LIKE YOU!"
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