(night before) Bastille Day

it all started when Jache told me his mother thought i looked like some "woodland creature," and ended with me writing a single sentence about the night that was.

but

to really taste the Madness
one must have been there
standing in line
waiting to see a woman
who didn't want to be seen
standing stage left in the dark
wearing a boy's shirt and black tie
whispering a soulful, morphined rendition
"House of the Rising Sun" to open the night.

it was beautiful,

how

much of

the sadness
i heard
was

hers?