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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I was drifting north, looking out for work, found myself in Iowa, in Des Moines, a polka band was holding a concert, they needed roadies, so I thought I’d join. The work was easy, just moving heavy things, and helping local seniors to the show, plentiful beer, a big floor to dance, guess that’s how these things usually go. But some brought college-age grandkids along, they had a good time and messaged their friends, more folk arrived, and then some hipsters thought polka would be an ‘ironic’ trend. They showed on up, the crowd overflowed, it was then things would get really weird, ’cause unknown to us, some damn hipster fool poured liquid ecstasy into the beer! And all of them were drinking heavily, seven thousand or more soon were high, old and young, it didn’t matter much, soon their clothing all began to fly! The band stopped dead at the sight of it, they’re never looked upon such a scene, countless old bodies writhing about… that’s not something you can ever unsee. The band-leader begged for them to stop, I swear that he pleaded just like the best, but no power we had could stop the mass of wrinkled hides and sagging…umh—skin. The hipsters and young folk got mixed on in, too altered to know who they lay with, pale, pierced, and skinny, doing sorts of things even loving gods would find hard to forgive. Somebody must’ve called the police, because when they threw open the hall door, and in a stunned voiced asked people to stop, the walls of bodies sent up a mad roar. Seven thousand people reeking of sex spilled out into the streets in a herd, the cops wouldn’t shoot senior citizens, though I heard a few winged them a hipster. The mayor declared all should stay in their homes as the mob flittered and frolicked about, it was more a parade then a riot, and strangely some even joined the crowd. After two hours they had made their way through the suburbs out to a cornfield, the effects of the drug now wearing off, the funny memories now seemed real... CONCLUDES IN PART II.
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