at first.
a lot of singing,
and hugging,
all that namaste,
kumbaya
malarky. but they seemed
sincere
and genuinely
caring about me as a person.
i felt loved.
there were lots of frisky
women,
and pretty too.
i didn't even mind when
they asked
me to put on a long orange
colored robe,
or give them
access to my bank accounts.
sure, i told the chief
guru, Bob,
have some money.
who needs money?
take my house
and my vinyl record collection.
i don't need all those
attachments
when i'm living here for
nothing.
take my car, sell it.
no need to call me by my
name anymore either.
called me Bluebird
from now on,
that's my new name.
i loved the dance parties,
though it took
a little getting used to,
not wearing clothes,.
you had to be extra careful
around the campfires.
the special homemade kool aid
seemed to help though
and loosen my inhibitions.
a girl named Daffodil taught me
how to play
the tambourine and the bongo,
but then,
they asked me to get a branding
on my neck,
to show my loyalty
to the group.
they wanted to use
a hot cauterizing iron,
to seer my flesh
into the shape of a smiley face
with a dollar sign through it.
i left after that.
crawling out a window
one night in my robe
and sandals.
i'm flipping burgers now at
Five Guys.
not a cult.
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