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.
