When In Sundance

When in Sundance,
Where I only knew about the festivals,
I started my own fire
Inside a secluded cabin
So hot I opened the back door,
I wrote.

Popping almonds into my mouth
Snow threatened to fall, or promised.
I wondered about seasons and thought
Obsessively about my lover.

My fellows mistook my seclusion
For looniness,
For loneliness nestled between the fire logs
Upon which validation burned: I right away
Set them straight. I never get to write like this,

In the middle of the week
When LA traffic is relentless and I
Mistake distraction for an opportunity.
I shudder at the sound of airplanes
And shouting men,

Arguing to no end. In hand, the sour
Cup of liquor I once knew. The mountains
Seem lower amongst angels
Parading as stars, revealed to be
Parasites.

But when in Sundance where I saw
The night hold real stars, and I feasted on
Words and metaphors until my tongue
Swelled,
I was alive: telling stories that made my mouth
Water.

Sundance Mountain Resort
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