[after Phish, Philadelphia 2009]

I was shawled in goldenrod
while you danced behind me grass green
and your fingers were stubby and
rounded at the ends they made me think
of primate hands and your hair
was scraggly city dog brown while you
watched my yellow hair art nouveau
with electric ends hot pink fuchsia
robins egg blue soundwave green
curling roving essing on beams
of jagged filtered light white like
when you think of heavenly light

I was shaded as a forest with light
shining through between betwixt red
orange leaves not yet crisped by cold
so that they still feel just as green as
high open pings over outer space
stars oh stars burning bright blue
iridescent moving bumping on one
another dark spaces between spaces of
spaces and sounds like mammal hide
heartbeats stretched taught and tied with
sinew and tendons and marbles of sweat
from more natural hands all one
smooth callous so that the grooves all run together

Can I stand next to you? Your colors are wild, babe.