I can’t dance
Unless I’m tripping
Then I am gripped
By the music, you know
I found that secret in dream town when I was
Down and out
Panhandling at the intersection of Haight and poor
That night about eight or so
Wearing a gauzy peasant blouse and
Long skirt
Bearing pheasants in my hair and
Beads
And barefoot
An old coot gave me a small square of LSD and a ticket to the show
I crow-walked in
Heart played on stage
Waves of music splashed through the hall
I started to dash and rage and jig and two-step in time
Lights flashing and pulsing in rhyme
With hundreds of others
All psychedelic colors and fancies tripping
And me with the best of them dipping and
Dancing fit to bust.
