intellectual properties

hay daze part 2

like any good life experience
the anticipation kills you
if you see it coming.

upon arrival, we were told to line up, shoulder to shoulder
stand and be counted!

after much ado and resistance
(to expect such miscreants to stand in a perfectly formed line
in the middle of a dark rainy woods at 1:00am
with the prize just within site
and the world continuing to spin
is a bit like asking the children to behave
inside the willy wonka chocolate factory)
we were led into the maze.

the restlessness was quickly replaced by a sense of wonder
and we grew quiet
as our feet sunk into a soft deep mud
the lights disappeared and
and the walls closed in around us.
within a matter of seconds
we were lost.

soon however the dark pathways
opened up into
a large dark room
no lights
no music no sound
only mud and a soft light rain coming in through the cracks in the tarps above
extreme down-tempo? we joked
was this it? where was everyone?
in a moment of silence between the silly laughter and
make-shift beatboxing
we heard bass.

off through one of the little doorways we went searching
through spirals and dead ends
mudpuddles and low arches
to eventually find the center
and with it: mayhem.

it was abrupt, to say the least
emerging through the doorway out of a cold wet narrow darkness
into a room filled with lights and color and sound and heat
all kinds of faces running together
a war seemed to be taking place
between the trippers and the rollers:
a conflict of interests acted out on the dancefloor.
bodies churning, lurching, stumbling, slipping
feeling their ways through the night
eyes closed, senses leading,
oblivious to some things yet hyper-aware of others,
planes and worlds intersecting at unusual crossroads
resulting in moments of hilarity and extreme vision.

it was too much to take at that moment
my eyes, my ears, my body overloaded
and i cringed.
is this what we’ve chosen?
is this what we’ve been wandering the labyrinth looking for?
this hot mess of humanity
rolling in the hay and mud like pigs in zen?

for a second my jaded self thought
- what a waste of life, this addled mass, this flaunting of mortality -
- why do we do this? this is just escapism. -
- why do *i* do this? i am just pretending. -
but immediately, i recoiled:
no, no, no – this is indeed a celebration
and suddenly i was terribly happy.
this is the weirdest party i’ve ever been to,
she said hesitantly, and i instructed her to embrace it.
is this not what you came for?

the night moved on and the clouds cleared to reveal vibrant stars
the dawn creeped in and slowly we all became aware of our mudcovered legs
and exhausted bodies
of the passing of time and the fragility of our forms.
the sun came up brilliantly over the misty mountains
as we rode the bus home
up highway 1 along the seashore
we pressed our faces to the glass
and stopped to admire the ocean
with its never ending waves.

despite the fact that we should have been exhausted
upon return to the city we were reluctant to separate
and the gorgeous day we had grown into was calling us to live and not sleep it all away
a long brunch on a dock of the bay
turned into a trip to a nearby park
where so many glorious sunrises had similarly been observed.

we watched the pelicans dive and the seals swim
relieved that the recent oil spill had not contaminated the warm water cove
until, sitting on the rocks in the warm sun
sleep finally started to find us as the muggle clock approached mid-day
and we headed home,
tired and dirty and smiling.

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