Burning Man sucks.


 Burning Man

It’s burning man season!

Every year i tell myself ‘I won’t be coming next year, for sure.’ And yet so far, I keep returning to that place. Desert people! Furry, dusty, messy, sexy, shipwrecked coconut-hearts: I decided I won’t be coming home this year. So I wrote us a little poem:

Blow a warm dusty smile my way
On a Saturday, when the fire dances and Man falls down in flames,
When blazing ashes rain down on the thousands of you.
Blow a glittery silent kiss my way
On a Sunday night, when all your whispered songs in the temple fly up,
To the wishful fire-lit skies.
Do hug the light, and the night,
And that fire-spitting mean-old octopus,
Scream at him for me:
‘I’ll see you next year!’

Maybe I’ll have goosebumps,
Maybe pink flamingos will come flying by,
And maybe they’ll have some coconut ice-cream..


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