I want to go to a gig…

I want to be standing in a disorderly queue in the cold complaining ‘Err, I didn’t dress right’ 

I want to watch the queue’s communal breath and cigarette smoke ripple through the night, 

I want to be touched all over by a security guard as she searches for drugs or a gun, 

I want to think Ahh this intense,  I don’t like crowds, I’m not up for it, I want to run

I want to push open heavy doors to intense heat, the smell of beer, body odour and farts, 

I want to make my way towards the bar, pushing through a sea of people and body parts, 

I want someone to pour their drink on me, and for me to tut and go ‘Errrr, for fuck’s sake’ 

I want them to come up close, say ‘sorry love, have this spare drink’ and to reply ‘Ok, great’ 

I want to dance at the back,  sipping a stranger’s cider, plotting my way into the mosh

I want to charge through loved up and angry drunks and think everyone needs a wash

I want to jump up and down, shout lyrics with phlegm flying and a face full of matted, filthy hair, 

I want to sidle up to a wide-eyed guy and ask where the toilet is and for him to say ‘OVER there’ 

I want to queue again for a cubicle, listen to the woman in front say ‘Yeah he’s a real dick’ 

I want to go to the toilet, hear someone next to me vom and then borrow her red lipstick 

I want to go back into the mosh and share a cheeky cig with a sweaty, grinning teen, 

I want to turn to a friend and lie very loudly, shouting ‘this is the best thing I’ve seen’ 

I want to climb into bed that night, ears buzzing and think I stink, I should really have a  shower, 

I want to decide not to, sleep in the night’s dirt and wake up with a taste in my mouth that’s sour, 

I want to have filthy hands, grubby face, with an unknown person in my space without thinking DANGER 

I want to be unsanitised, unmasked; I want to go to a gig and share something other than fear with a stranger.