Ocotillo flames licked my face
leaving dried saliva and tribal tattoos
in the form of coffins and nails.
Ashes floated amongst butterflies
and I flied
dancing on embers
mixing stardust
with cherry-flavored Kool-Aid.
It became the drink of the decade
and raver kids enjoyed
the orange glow of my light sticks.
It was the new Burning Man.

We tripped on people
worrying about Y2K,
buying tent supplies and flash lights.
I laughed in the aisles of Target
watching middle-aged white women
yearning for my colored touch.
They wanted me to paint their
linen canvas skins
with my obscenities.
I partook in their laughter,
nervous and wild.

We had a good time, my friends.
We had a good time indeed.