“Woodstock ’69”

Two rainy days left behind
a windless night that carried over
to a muggy sunrise still covered
with a leftover grey blanket of clouds.
The earth is now a warm layer of mud
for us to bathe in, meet new friends in,
make new little ones in. Our bodies
glisten with a sheen we’ll share
with a partner, male or female –
no matter, we can become what’s
needed. As two become one, our
swollen ends join in a sweet sticky
mess, we stay ever alert for the
sound of footfalls. At the slightest
tremble in the grass, we will quickly,
silently part ways, each hurrying
back to our own wormhole.


2 thoughts on ““Woodstock ’69”

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