At Shag Phelps' birthday bash,
in a small dark bedroom
on the far end of Alan's trailer,
we found ourselves laughing and naked,
doing the dirty dance to a drum solo,
and strains of electric mystic Iron Butterfly
'In-A-Godda-Da-Vida, baby…'
Flashes of strobe and heady weed
Thank you, Ina. I appreciate that you took time to read and comment.
This is a lovely poem :)