Student Revolution

After the teach-in we smeared the walls with our solidarity, looked left, & saw Marx among the angels, singing the blues. The students march, I (spectator) follow. Here (as everywhere) the Polizei are clean, are clean. In Frankfurt, the whores lean out their windows, screaming: 'Get a job - you dirty hippies!' Or words (auf Deutsch) to that effect. I'm also waiting for the Revolution, friends. Surely, my poems will get better. Surely, I'll no longer fear my dreams. Surely I won't murder my capitalist father each night just to inherit his love.