(no subject)
I'm part of this small writer's group that gets together once a month and writes. This month, we were challenged to write pieces with an erotic tone. This was pretty easy for me, since most everything I write comes out sounding dirty. But anyway, I wrote this one, not so dirty in tone, referencing a recent trip down to Rosendale. I thought I would write it down for posterity:
Muddy Leather
for J. Novak
The day I suddenly understood punk music
It poured like a plague.
An outdoor festival, a band I could not miss,
A lead singer I was not expecting.
We did not have an umbrella.
My red cotton skirt melded with the outline of my thighs,
My hair flat and dripping from the sheer volume of falling water,
I was dancing, jumping, but my insides stood transfixed and gaping.
She was a hypnotizing burst of passion, anger,
Infused with raw dazzling energy, power.
She stomped and writhed and screamed and whispered.
Her t-shirt soaked by the way she was working the mic under the otherwise dry covered stage.
Baptized by that Hudson Valley deluge,
She made me a convert.
Muddy Leather
for J. Novak
The day I suddenly understood punk music
It poured like a plague.
An outdoor festival, a band I could not miss,
A lead singer I was not expecting.
We did not have an umbrella.
My red cotton skirt melded with the outline of my thighs,
My hair flat and dripping from the sheer volume of falling water,
I was dancing, jumping, but my insides stood transfixed and gaping.
She was a hypnotizing burst of passion, anger,
Infused with raw dazzling energy, power.
She stomped and writhed and screamed and whispered.
Her t-shirt soaked by the way she was working the mic under the otherwise dry covered stage.
Baptized by that Hudson Valley deluge,
She made me a convert.