Rainbow Haze

Rainbow Haze



Cross legged, on a dusty Turkish rug,
I sit watching the psychedelic waves
Of music waft toward me through the smoke.
Patchouli oil and sandalwood incense
Mask the smell of hashish and opium.
Jim Morrison and Che Guevara peer
Down from the rogues gallery of posters
Plastering the walls from floor to ceiling.

"White Rabbit" physically overtakes me.
I am shaken. My head hits the ceiling
And my chin drops to the paisley carpet.
The experience is initially
Pleasurable, but then I am consumed
By paranoia. Who are these people?
Why are they watching me and what do they want?
I feel fuzzy and unable to stand.

With help, my wife escorts me down the stairs.
Like a blind man I need to be guided
Along the sidewalk. Ahead is chaos.
A man is being beaten. A deep voice
Says, “This is a very dark neighborhood.”
My wife says, “He’s sick,” referring to me.
“Happy New Year!” I say in return.
We are allowed to stumble on our way.

We search for the nearest subway station
To take us home and to sanctuary.
The noise of the trains is terrifying.
Mosaic tiled walls close in upon me
Pushing me ever closer to the tracks.
Is this how life will end? Will I be thrown
In the path of one of these behemoths
Rattling at breakneck speed toward me?

And what, pray tell, will it all have been for?
Where do I go now that I’ve gone too far?
Will I ever be safe from the rabbits?
Or, will they lurk around every corner?
Finally, I am guided to my home
Where all is secure. I am safe at last.
The door is bolted and the windows latched.
I have been reprieved for another day.