By Andres David Lopez
Bonaroo left its mark exploding in my eyelid
the tents of sleep and sick tangled in rows and rows of dust and dirty
homes tonight for vaporized hides
we’re refugees sonically
mattress sea saw when I’m asleep
but wake up hot with sun when she arrives
and the heat waves
This port-o-lette is done. It’s stunk into the ground
coolers become my dining couch
the lantern lights my angry spouse
mushrooms burst out of bags alive
they are reeking inside
knocking my gravity paralyzed
turning my stomach on its side
with the taste of monster in my mouth
and its wild ways
so my monster says
Heaven found on my way out
highway rest stops to seek
out organisms to
flush out heaven found
on my way out
I heard the rock and drove away
And with a spark all of the lights in centeroo started racing
through fields of mud and up the stages through the bodies
ankle deep and filthy
they fight to hold notes not heard everyday
attached to songs they can’t wash away
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