I Don't Take Shit From Satan
Anasazi, Kokopelli, Buddha,
God and Satan arrive
(at the same time)
for the Fort Collins, New West Fest
God, of course, has His hands full...
Satan is a real ass and looses face
(pretending to be an athletic
biker/skier type who digs Feng Shui)
I do my best David Bowie
(dance with myself to a sixties
rock n roll cover band -
hands full of poems, baklavah
and cheese quesadillas)
I don't take shit from Satan,
I tell him straight out
he must be on drugs . . .
I'm here to have fun, period.
To hell with you, Satan!
I move through the scene like
the scent of funnel cake,
Thai Steak and Buffalo burgers -
in and out of crowds
and so called, artisan's tents
(their ignorance accelerates
my steps) . . .
I pick up a Neo Inca CD
by South American Musicians
(living in New Mexico and Denver)
who record Peruvian spiritual songs
in a production studio
somewhere in Texas
A recording studio which dictates
which cover songs (Pink Floyd,
Rolling Stones, etc.) they will record
(under contract)
with "original" and ancient Holy songs
of the Incas? I give up, and try on
a "Western" hat (made in Colorado)
that looks remarkably Australian
and then try on some "original"
Native American jewelry (made in Taiwan)
At the beanery, I order a large, iced coffee -
trying not to think of anything
except my copy of Adrienne Rich poetry
I decide to call "it" a day but can't help
wondering why . . .
Deborah Russell
(For DZ, in the light of Bob Dylan)
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