getting down with webster

the lights are already dimmed 

when I enter in.

Above me, a sea of arms

like a million flesh coloured trees

sway.

And the performers on stage 

seem to have figured out how to defy gravity

as they fly off the high

of the sound of the front man, as he shreds guitar strings

spewing beauty and sweat.

He looks up, a hand shielding his vision

gazes past the spotlight's sun,

until the audience, where it all begun

to me, standing here, pretending I'm a stranger,

he blows a kiss, and I exchange it with a scream,

I thrust my hands in the air

while the crowd surges into a tidal wave,

and breaks in roars upon the stage.

The bass vibrates through my veins,

the sticks on the symbols shatter my brain.

All my worries disappear, and I am finally here.

You put your hand on my back to steady me,

catch my smile, and seamlessly hoist me up 

upon your shoulders,

on the throne of your body I throw back my head

and laugh.

While the musicians sing "She's dope"

I know I don't smoke,

but I've never been so 

high.


Walking back, your arm in mine,

ears ringing deaf, throat sung dry,

I thank you for the ticket you bought me.

You squeeze my hand, and shoot me a grin

"A ticket will never pay the price

of seeing you smiling again."

and I throw back my head and gaze at the stars,

and finally understand they aren't that far.

We don't need to learn to fly, the sky is pretty low,

all we need is a melody, and a guitar solo.

The End

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