We arrived at five a.m.
thinking this was early enough
for great seats close to the stage - wrong!
The tents and campsites had been there for days
A tower of empty bottles over our heads, whisky, vodka, tequila,
and all the other varieties you could possibly imagine – no bottles allowed
Having delivered their liquid feelings of euphoria
they were piled high at the entrances;
a free-form sculpture of color and glass!
Hours later, there were dancing nuns
letting loose on the infield. Their joy
didn’t seem to be coming from God this day,
unless he played lead guitar
Enterprising fellas rolling them up
from colorful, tattered shoeboxes
for anyone with five dollars and a lighter – business was good
George Thorogood lighting the fuse
with electrified echoes of Elmore James and Robert Johnson
J. Geils, at their peak, killed their set too
In our seats, miles away from the stage,
the crowd around us pulsed and swayed with musical energy,
and the nuns kept twisting and shaking
Sisters of the Wholly Shit-Faced, we assumed
We listened to the Stones, and rocked and rolled
with the sixty-five thousand. Tumbling Dice,
Start Me Up, and Let Me Go - so prophetic…
Because we did let each other go
I can still see some of the faces that were there
and those awesome nuns again, habits swirling
But you are no longer in the crowd,
no matter what song is playing
when my mind puts the needle down
at thirty-three and a third revolutions per minute