For WRF, not KBF
Hooray for mediocrity!
The police sirens blare, the only noise
Drowning out the din of
A Dixieland bunny hop.
Acres of flesh blaze, virgin skin
For the spring sacrifice.
Humidity absorbed and regurgitated through
The pores of the working poor form a moat
Around the beer garden. It was here that
Steve and Adam were expelled for not wearing
Their admission buttons. The lack of shirts on
Which to don them was no problem, just the
Absence of a button. Perhaps next year, the
Organizers could save everyone the trouble
And just require a festival tattoo?
There is no flashing for beads here,
No partying like it's the end times.
The best that can be mustered is
Show your chest and win your own beads
Of sweat to add to the collective river
Of bodily fluids we celebrate.
Francine's Version -- Hezekiah's
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