The Ballad of J & Y

It's just a black and white picture (a poster) that someone gave to me. A man and a woman, sitting in bed, each holding a flower in their hand, looking intently at the camera, not smiling exactly, but there's a hint of a smile, and a definite light, an intelligence that seems to reside in the eyes, that seems to connect to something inside the viewer. There's a lot of hair, long, and lank; the man and woman, they have long hair, down to their shoulders and beyond. The man has a full beard, he wears those wire glasses. It's a famous picture, of a famous, maybe infamous, couple, a couple that went out of their way to challenge the status quo, kind of weird, kind of arty, kind of avant garde, the kind of couple that was famous enough, and rich enough, and entertaining enough, that if they decided to spend a week in bed to promote peace, reporters would come, other famous people would come, this couple would get attention, and abuse, there would be controversey. This was a time when a war, (there's always a war) was raging in a far off land. It's an old photo, from another time and place. The photo captures one moment. Click! So this image is now affixed to my refrigerator. Everytime I go to get a refill of milk for my morning coffee, those eyes of intelligence stare back at me. They remind me of an idealism, a beauty, a fire, a desire, a way to live, that still resides deep inside me. Is it all a cliche? Some cliches are true. Even if that truth is only a moment, one moment of a camera flash, a flash, frozen in time. That flash, that image, that thought, that dream still lives...