March 12, 2009

Yet Another Acid Tail

by Randall Rogers

“Do we need money here?” my buddy asked
after seeing “the light” and grabbing for the woman God told him he had to
fuck, the pretty woman dancing arm in arm with her big boyfriend
in the row just in front of us. “But do I have to do it here?” he asked.
We were at Red Rocks at an outdoor Moody Blues concert.
I gave him a firm all purpose “No!” while restraining him
from grabbing the woman.
Then a helicopter came in low bearing an electronic message
advertising something and I was sucked right out of my body.
My body went limp as I left it and went hurtling through the cosmos
until I came to the edge of the Big Bang and I bounced off it
and took the same quick route back into my body.
I looked over at my buddy who must have had a similar experience.
“Hold on!” I yelled to him above the music, “put your head down and whatever you do
don’t look up!”
People dancing partying singing along all around us
and we two sitting down with our heads between our knees
eyes shut or staring straight at the ground.
Soon our other buddy
who hadn’t taken the Oms
the brown acid of the concert
and four of them at that
he chimed in with “You guys really should at least look at the stage and try to listen to the show.”
“No way!” we replied in unison
and we pretty much missed the entire show.
Later, as we were leaving the concert venue going down steep steps
in the mass exodus of people
he suddenly sat down in the middle of a stream of moving bodies,
we too stopped when he sat down.
“But do I have to screw her here?” he said again.
Then I said “Look! There’s Don Juan!” from the Castaneda
books and he got up to look around, “Really?”
A Latino was standing leaning against a pine tree watching us.
I think it was his return to the money issue that sort of snapped him back into it.
After repeated vocalizations of “the light! the light!” and a return to the “do we need money here?” I told him no we don’t need money here would you give me yours? And he thought something was up, we weren’t in Oz, we were on a money using planet, and he got up and sort of came to. He walked talking to himself with the other buddy and I guiding him down the steps and out through the parking lot and down to the car. He had the thousand yard stare of a Vietnam Vet or Heston as Moses coming off the mountain. Boy was that fun. Are you experienced?


Anonymous said...

great poet this cat, his butler too!!!!

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