Funny How Time Slips Away

In Ann Arbor back when the sixties were becoming the seventies, this guy and I hung out all of the days and all of the nights.  Then the times changed.  This guy went back home to Mexico.  I went to Cape Cod.  Lost touch.  Night before last I had a vivid dream.  Juan and I were hanging out.  It was beautiful.  In the words of the Gram Parsons song, it was "a dream too real to be leaned against too long."  I miss Juan.  I miss Ann Arbor.  I miss the counter-culture, people letting their freak flags fly.  I miss Juan playing the piano for me in his apartment.  I miss Grace Slick singing "Tear down the walls, motherfucker."  I miss laughing at the sky.  I miss trying to guess what real events Don McLean had in mind when he wrote the lyrics of "American Pie".  I miss the perfect little apartment I had at 801 East Huron.
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I came across a bit of dialogue that is apt to my mood above; it's from an Ivy Compton-Burnett novel: "It is the future we must look to," said Constance, "It is useless to pursue the past." "It is needless," said Anthony.  "It will pursue us."