what i would have in my rider

arched construction of contemporary stadium on sunny day
Photo by Aleks Marinkovic on Pexels.com

I’m not a pop star and I cannot sing or dance

And yet I’ll often wonder what I would have

In my rider for dressing rooms on tour.

I’d have flowers that are yellow, and candles

That smell strongly of sandalwood.

I’d have big bowls of Reese’s and cold cherry coke

And I’d order in pizza that I’d eat with my dancers

When we roll off the stage looking sweaty and tired.

We’d crush into rooms in cities with no names,

Laughing at signs that we’d read in the crowd

While buzzing with nerves that twang with the tension,

The crowds drifting out to beds that are warm,

Ears still ringing for days at a time

And we’ll move on to another arena, a cathedral

To pop music prayed to by the masses

And paying for my flowers and sandalwood candles.