No matter the music,
they are all the same
I could just listen and watch
I close my eyes
– and feel
the heavy rhythm pulsing in my chest
– stronger from nearby speakers– it consumes me
the desire to move my body along with it
the balmy night air
the flood of triggered memories
The music blares through large speakers
Heavy bass gives the ground a heartbeat.
Five girls happily dance
while a policeman searches their bags.
A man lies with his head on his girlfriend’s stomach,
his head turned towards her breasts as they talk over the music.
Little girls barely into single-digit shoe sizes scream and swoon
over a singer their mother drooled over in junior high.
Narcissistic joggers in tight shorts stretch and pose
in an area selected to give maximum viewing pleasure.
Two teenagers play ‘frisbee’ with a flip-flop,
giggling as if they invented a new sport.
Elderly couples sit in folding chairs tapping their feet
to whatever music they are hearing, even if it’s not what is playing.
The combined scents of fried foods from the vendor carts, insect repellent sprayed intermittently,
the heavy cologne of eager young boys (and some old enough to know better) who underestimate the value of a shower,
and the smell of the grass, both the kind underfoot and the kind inhaled-unless-you’re-a-president,
waft through the crowd, wind permitting.
And then there’s me…just soaking it all in.