A microphone dangles from a cable
hung from a streetlight and as it sways
its sensors pick up on the wind.
A crowd with glowing necklaces,
and paint that covers what
their clothes are showing off,
stand in picture perfect circles
wrapped around a place
of ever burning fire.
Tall men carry women half
their size on their shoulders so they can see
and that their screams be carried over
all the others born before them.
Banjos are strummed in furious
solos out in the parking lot
as everyone is filing in
like dust that’s being swept
into a pile.
Tequila in empty water bottles is gold
out in the moonlight that is all they have
to see by until the show starts.
Their stomping feet push the hillside
back into the ground, it was a solid sound
like none I’ve ever heard before.
A girl with opera looking glasses
dressed in a muddy purple gown
looks through them at the empty stage
with one hand on her stomach
like she’s nervous for the music