Democrat, Illinois - The ElectroLounge

!
“What, Doctor?”
“Where is Richard?”
“He’s gone on tour. Didn’t he tell you?”
Squints. Says nothing.
Trip Town appears to be coming from the jukebox, on the ceiling, within the Jimi
Hendrix at Woodstock ‘69 poster.
Tis spreading.
Tis coming.
Then they toast me at the bar, a roaring sprawl of them & there’s birthday cake very
chocolate & I waver nearer & away Luna T’s Cafe I love thee from within & a long way
far—
“Will he bend an elbow on his birthday, barkeep?”
“No. He’s moved on.”
“Well, I ain’t! Right, boys! Set em up! And fetch him a sody pop or whatever!”
Tonight turns out to be Noisy Children’s first message from tour, & a strange one.
Mr. Bob is pouring drinks left & right when it comes.
Rebecca best translates it & tells the rest. “They’re outdoors at a festival.
Mountains. It doesn’t have a name really. Nobody paid to come but it’s been happening
more.”
“What state?”
“Not far. Pennsylvania? I don’t know.”
“What else?”
“There’s no electricity. Just torches. A bonfire. Like the Bread & Puppet Festival in
Glover, Raymond.”
I nod.
“They’re coming. And a lot of others.” She grabs my hand & we hurry into the
bandroom. It’s already changing. The walls are gone, the trees are many & tall. The
drumming is everywhere. The singing is shouts & moans. Noisy Children & audience are
many & one.
No roof. Sentient sky.
Bowls of water pass around, maybe dosed heavily with LSD, maybe not. I don’t know, the
faces stretch out forever maybe & away & then beyond them, a rhythm from deep meets a
melody from high & are one thing as ever were—
Sun & moon coming down together, at last, all stars & more, a little tap & open wilder,
another & what unnamed but kind is near, Noisy Children live throughout the Universe,
nothing small or unimportant, every slightest movement cascades unknown & potent
perpetually
my love is roses when she
smiles, sugar she sings,
higher when she dreams,
!
65
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