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Prose by
Michael
September 28, 2002 |
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Life Naked |
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We are all built of something. I am built of ones and zeros and steal pieces with no room for debate. Bif Naked: her name sings like headlines in foreign news papers. I sit in a dark room with white light on my face and sweat dripping down my frame. I am a worker, a soldier; I was built to do tasks, but today I was free. Alfie?s: a basement, dank and dark ? large cash in renovations for small gain in atmosphere. Bif Naked made the difference. Not just her, but them all, on the stage with light and sweat and lust. I drank little but drunk I was. Drunk on life, not mine (built in binary) but theirs, pouring out upon us like the red sea when god let go. Thursday it wasn?t: people on people ? ravenous. They poured out a youth that I haven?t felt in years. I came in a dog collar: artifact of the past, and past it was that they brought to us. Life and love and liberty and freedom -- I would die for freedom but lost it long ago. I have lived in books and numbers for years, but tonight I was pressed (body against body) in a sea of children, reaching for a brass ring. And there, in dance and fury, I felt free. ?Tell us a story!? And she did. She told us of their life and their vigor, and it grew in our blood. I climbed the guide wire of a telephone pole ? a foot away from electrocution. Can you answer in three words the question: ?Why do you live?? ?I don?t know? may be your only response. Tonight in the basement the question didn?t exist. We moved as one creature ? smiles in sideways glances ? and the question seemed absurd. If you didn?t live this on Friday night, you didn?t just miss a show; you missed life naked. |
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