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