by Chris Dunphy
Welcome home, they said
as I drove through the gate.
And I felt it, and said it too –
to others as they arrived.
But this place isn’t anyone’s home.
It is a barren wasteland of a desert.
Filled for a week with 30,000 neo-hippies,
carting around their Costco-sized provisions
like prizes from a hunt.
No – there is no home here.
This feeling of home we brought with us,
or created here together on this blank playa canvas.
We did not find it here waiting. We made it. It is ours.
They tell us as we enter to be on the lookout
for “Materials Out of Place,” and to pack this MOOP out when we find it.
But is there anything more out of place in the desolate Black Rock Desert
than a feeling of love, community, and home?
Let’s not forget to carry this particular MOOP
away with us when we leave.