I Think You're Smart, You Sweet Thing (threw_a_spark) wrote in hyperthetical,
I Think You're Smart, You Sweet Thing

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Mister Mister.

Misters. That's my idea. Misters.

Standing at the show last night, bodies sharing close space and everybody's skin rubbing hot against someone else's, all I could do between sets was look up at the ceiling of the Crystal Ballroom and wish for misters. Like in the supermarket's produce aisle. And they would let their sweet cold breath fall on all the panting concertgoers. If the space didn't allow for it, perhaps portable ones could be implemented, hoses connected to pipes that reached out over the throng and let out a gentle spray.
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