T’was the 16th of December, and all over Los Angeles

Every creature was stressed, including the angels.

 

Wrapped like burritos in coats, scarves and hats,

We swarmed Barnsdall Art Park like grumpy old bats.

Isolating ourselves in the auditorium, two-by-two,

We awaited a Happening, we didn’t care who was who.

 

All of a sudden, the theater went dark.

I noticed Gelare Khoshgozaran swig Maker’s Mark.

 

“Hey Mama, Hey Mama!” screamed a voice from up high.

As we twisted in our seats, behind the curtain came a reply.

 

After immersing us in rhymes, taunt and woots,

We were summoned to the stage, causing a stampede of boots.

Clustered around our leader, with amber-colored vials

Which tasted like perfume, happiness and …Benadryl?

 

“To be a citizen is to inhabit a place. Think about where your body is placed.”

Eyes drooped, breathing commenced; whatever we sampled was definitely laced.

 

Cantankerous bats turned lethargic cats, we were guided to the next level—literally.

A long rope provided, we clung to the fibers; all felt pretty similar-ly.

 

Meandering along, inside and out, we climbed flights of stairs

To the Los Angeles Municipal Art Gallery, where we entered in pairs.

 

A fairy in a flower crown bellowed, “Think about a time when you felt love.”

I thought of friends, he remembered her, and the kid next to us picked at their glove.

 

Next came a game of tug-of-war,

Which became musical chairs; it was laughter galore.

 

The last chair remained between a little girl and a guy.

Music paused. He stole the seat. Push him off, she did try.

 

Leaving the park at the end of the night,

Something for once felt inherently right.

 

During a season rift with deadlines, shopping and politics unplanned,

Artists like taisha we need now more than ever. You had to be there to understand.