Act I

Cowboys : clowns : cats :
            zombies : mummies : vampires
   veiled in gashes :
      cuts : contusions :
            black eyes : dried blood
                     all stand outside Metro,
waiting for Bedford’s set.

            We walk through the cafe
                            give hugs and high-fives
                as we     wedge
      through    the    crowd.

                                                            In a short skirt and halo of pipe cleaners,
                                                            Rianna calls herself an angel.
                                                            Nice costume, cheater, I laugh as I hug her.

                            Guess who?
Calloused hands cover my eyes
Dave, hey, I turn around,
                    give him a hug,
       Where is your costume? Why
 aren’t you ever any fun? I say.
                    I’m here to see you, isn’t that enough?
                  I could be out shredding with my friends.
I lean into him, smell the faint scent of soap
      under the layers of sweat — shove my hand into his
         back pocket, kiss his neck, Always have to be
                 a hard ass, huh? I pull away.
                         Can I come over later? He says.

Act II

The mass of schoolgirls : pirates : devils
           : packs of robots and spacemen :
        and even Charlie Chaplin laugh : shout :
sway to the rhythm
              the energy in the air.
        Arms swing   :   bodies slam
                         into   arms   :   bodies
adrenaline   :   pleasure
                      slam               dance 
climb on stage   :   grab the mic
                scream   :   dive 
                into the pit   :   heels smash
shoulders  :   bruises become 
              before the set is over.
            The humid air  :
   thick   :   breath   :   sweat.
I scream along   :   every song
   move   :   the pulse      of the crowd
           hand above my head   :
throb   :   along   :   with the room
hit   :   air   :   on the hard beats
       I stumble   :   drenched bodies
crash into me.


Voices hoarse,
costumes soaked,
makeup melted,
               morph between
who we were
and who we will be

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