ode to michigan

I danced to music that was built to trip to. The lights and sounds and videos were meant to install bliss and relaxation into the minds off all who were involved. The LSD was in mass doses that night, and I as straight edge as could be jumped and gyrated through the lost crowd to the melodies(?) of industrial light and magic. I recognized one from the crowd. My old roomie. DMT was rocking his brain, but not to the point where he was as lost and wandering as the faceless herds of new age artists hippies and morons. He was dancing and jumping as though he was native american leaping around and through the fire and flames. We rain danced. We warded off the zombie swarms. We were being, not just existing.

Earlier that weekend, I saw a boy lying on the ground. His eyes open, and a brighter blue than the sky. His lips parted in a slack manner, there was no animation to suggest he might be alive. We walked on to the concert. Later the cops had found him, and were either trying to rouse him awake, or checking his vitals. I couldnt tell through all the pot smoke. Where was he "being"?