If you do it right, he won't even notice.
His mind is always on his dance card.
When he takes your hand, turn your cheek
to his false lightness, his perfumed breath,
his glistening teeth. Step into the darkness,
then step back. Eventually, he'll insist
you look him in the eye and laugh
at all his jokes. And you must, of course.
But cross your fingers behind his back.
Acquiesce to his charm and dips
with a shaker of salt.
When he spins you to the edge
of the small dance floor, don't look down
into the pit you'll notice there.
That's his ego. It has no bottom.
When he thinks he has you wrapped around
your own crossed fingers
he'll invite you to dinner. Smile,
thank him for the offer, and tell him
there's regret and sorrow enough, but not tomorrow.
What's that swaying in the sumac;
that humming in the sassafras?
Are those chickadees, twittering
in the thicket, or are these trees
just glad to see us?
Look at all those bees—too stoned to sting,
too bombed to buzz—distilling pollen
from all that butterfly weed.
When those dragonflies near the pond
are comatose, we'll use cattail reeds
as straws, and snort nectar from hyacinths
like hopped-up hummingbirds.
At dusk, we'll sober up with the bees
over by the vetch and the sneezeweed.
Afterwards, we'll be so hungry, we'll want
to eat trees; so remember those blackberries
near the carved-up beech, the blueberries
in the meadow.
And don't worry!
When twilight gets the blues and Luna glows
like a silver sun, we'll sell that moonshine
and put all our honey in memory banks
so we'll have something to live on
after this day and these sweet dreams
and this paradise have all gone to pot.
John Sokol writes and paints in Akron, Ohio. His paintings and drawings are included in many public and private collections. His poems have appeared in America, Antigonish Review, The Berkeley Poetry Review, Georgetown Review, New Millennium Writings, The New York Quarterly, and Quarterly West, among others. His short stories have appeared in Akros, Descant, Mindscapes, The Pittsburgh Quarterly and other journals. His chapbook, Kissing the Bees, won the 1999 Redgreene Press Chapbook Competition. In the Summer of Cancer, a full collection of his poetry, and The Problem with Relativity (short stories) are his latest books.
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