Woodstock

The pit of hell eclipses the damned
toilets in the mind of the lone security guard.
He had informed the right people
of the breath of feces spoiling the air,
the spilling of porta-potties dampening
the earth and a girl’s smelly shoes.

But now a man onstage informs, “Um,
there’s a fire…” The mountain of flame
overtakes the crowd. A 10 year-old barks
at the fag onstage. The last guard
ditches the show.

And Ted tosses an empty can where others
have piled, smells something. His friends
were taken by the crowd, purple darkens
on his arm and he wishes he was less bored.
He follows two pretty girls (finally!) but a group
of pale apes finds them and coerces their flesh to be
revealed. He tries to catch the cacophony in the air,
but noise bludgeons. Soon smoke
engulfs the night. Ted makes it home.

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