I twist the faucet of the water off,
Throwing my dishrag into the white sink.
In the front of the booth people part,
Jamming to beats much like those of the Dead.
I exit the kitchen, making my way
Behind the stage on a narrow trail,
Passing through a circle of smokers,
I make my way to my one-person tent.
I grab my towel and a change of clothes,
And start my adventure to the showers.
I weave my way through the crowd of dancers,
Leaving the pocket of people and noise,
I find myself on the main pathway.
As I make my way from the crowded booth,
The sounds of drums and guitars quickly fade,
As does the ambient light of lanterns,
Leaving only the occasional flames
of scattered beeswax candles and torches.
Unlike the booth, the main pathway is sparse.
Every once and a while there are
Small clumps of people talking or dancing,
But they are nothing like that of my booth.
Having forgotten to bring my own light
I had to make my way by memory.
After walking over Jill's crossing,
I came upon a schizophrenic light.
Hundreds of small green lasers quickly danced,
Moving in random patterns on the ground,
Cast from a large fir tree above the path.
Continuing on, I pass by a rave,
One with no noise. People dancing. Silent.
There shone several colored flashing lights,
The only disturbances of the night.
After the rave of silence come I on,
A stretch of blackness, no lanterns in sight.
The stars and moon blotted out by the trees.
I could hear whispers from people unseen,
And the ramblings of a drunken man.
I walked for a time on this darkest path,
Having no sense of smell or sight or sound,
Feeling only my feet upon the path.
Aching from their continuous labor.
Finally, I reached the end of the dark,
Finding myself in an open meadow.
Here the heavens above gave light to man.
Many small clusters of friends and strangers,
Some are engaged in small conversations,
While others make passionate, moonlit love.
It is a wondrous place, suspended.
The laws of time and space having no sway.
Just a bit past the beautiful meadow,
I finally reached my destination.
I walk up to an old, smiling woman.
I hand to her one of my work vouchers,
And put my things in a wooden cubby,
And then I step up to a shower head,
Twisting the faucet on, letting water--
Water that is clean and warm,
Flow over my naked, dusty body.