by Levi Asher
i remember my friend benoy choudhari
could never get the details of american culture quite right
he once went on a blind date
(a pretty comical idea already, if you knew benoy)
and the girl took him to a heavy metal/thrash club
where, he told me the next day
everybody was slam-dancing to the grateful dead
i really doubt this
i'm sure he meant black sabbath
or judas preist
or motley crue
but i never bothered to correct him.
mystification was part of the fun.
two months before jerry died
i heard phil lesh sing unbroken chain at giants stadium
it was the best, most sublime moment
i ever experienced at a dead show
jerry was pretty out of it by then
fucked up the words to wharf rat the night before
cool spanish jam, but heroin owned his mind
i have nothing bad to say about this
i'm glad he found a way to be happy
one month before he died
i had a revelation at a wild patti smith show in central park
that it was all about dionysus
and maybe everyone has their own secret rave scene
their own hidden drum circle
the day after this patti smith show
i walked around new york city thinking:
that guy buying the hot dog?
he's experiencing total ecstasy
the lady reading vogue
is conducting a private bacchanal
the two guys in suits talking about stock prices
thoughts of money washing over them like green magic rain ...
hydrogen jukebox
empire state building
i am bored, i am ready
dionysus, find me here