As the sun goes down,
the wild ones emerge,
from their dusty resting places,
some from home,
some from work,
some from near,
some from afar.

The stage is set.
The drinks are poured.
The stolen pallets burn.
And the music begins.

Laughter.  Stories.  Deep introspection.

Tomfoolery.

Friends come out from all directions.
Every last soul a wild one.
A collection of misfits.
Happy to be.
Hosted by Zep Dionysus. 

Relishing in each other’s insanity.

It was the best of times.