Crossing the living room carpet
After turning off the lights
And checking the doors,
And I felt--
Really felt--
Something strange,
Like electric,
Coming from the shadows on the floor.
I was stoned--yeah--but still, it was there:
An energy crackling,
A feeling giving me tingles,
Making it impossible to sleep.
(You know what I mean,
Or maybe not--no foul--
But let me tell you:)
The Olmec and Iroquois were down there
Chanting denial of oblivion.
They were
Pounding in the basement,
Carousing, bloody ghosts of the defeated,
Becoming more raucous by the moment,
Demanding to be joined.
Would you be coming, too?
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