Solstice Dream
I was never the one
invited to dance naked
on the beach
in the woods
within a circle of stones
when the shadows were shortest
and the sun swung its arc
across the apex of the sky.
No I didn’t get passed the joint,
smoke hash from a pipe,
or eat the mushrooms;
didn’t sacrifice my virginity
to whatever goddess demanded it,
or shave my head
wear robes
and walk barefoot
over burning coals.
Not me.
Not that I didn’t want to.
But I stayed home,
helped put tin foil over the kids’ windows
so they’d finally go to sleep,
and fell into the mattress
like she was a mistress,
cradling me from the energy
demanded by so much light.
She would cover my eyes with her pillows,
and rise to me, pushing
sensuous, inviting, suggestive.
But I was already snoring,
passing a pipe,
twirling naked in my dreams.
