Marked: Another Experience
Private party show,
because the venue forgot
to renew the liquor license.
Marked with a sharpie
so we could exit the club between bands.
I stand in the back against a wall
while the first band plays
punked-up folk music
wearing Donnie Darko masks.
I spend the set going between
hoping the masks weren’t going to star
in fucked up nightmares later on,
and thinking that they were too talented
to have be resorting to stupid gimmicks
to gain the attention of an audience.
Between sets I run
out to my car for some granola.
I catch glances from the smokers
as I run back into the club,
they seemed amused by my antics.
With the second band
I move closer to the stage.
Last time I saw them was 9 years prior.
The energy and passion are still there,
no doubt revved up by their hometown crowd.
I’m soaking in the feel of the upright bass
reverberating in my chest.
It’s been too long
since I last had that feeling.
Between sets, back to my car,
more granola. And to leave
my hoodie in the front seat;
there would be no need inside anymore.
I move my way through the club
to the second ‘row’ of the pit
and hop foot-to-foot
as the headlining band sound checks.
They start their set
and everything moves in unison.
And I’m at peace again
shaking my head, my body bouncing
almost rhythmically off of others.
Later on, back in the kitchen
the ink of the X is already fading.
Smiling, thinking, nothing last forever
Many days I fantasize
about buying a one-way ticket
to anywhere outside of the US.
Leaving a note, or texting, or e-mailing
those who will worry
that I’m okay. I’m just going
on one of my one-woman adventures,
just this time a little further out than normal.
I’ll drop into some big city,
walk into some little dive bar-type pub
and beg the owner for a job.
I’ll be paid under the table, of course.
I’ll explore the city
and when I get tired of it,
take a train to anywhere else.