Shade of Summer Days

Tell my why
I prefer naked moonlit nights
to the shade of sunny days.
I’m not white,
I’m the color of murky ocean,
curdling beneath me
with drifting globes
of jellyfish.

I dream of peeking
down below
at all the things that grow there.

I’m meant to lounge
in softness,
killing dragons, slaying monsters,
in the name of honor
to a much older day;
while I dress in 1950
and hope,
in the apocalypse,
that God will allow us
to dance
in Zion.

Oh yes, how could He not?
God dances
with joy, just as us.

So tell me why
I’m not speckled green
with dollars,
or why I shun
new places and new friends,
because I had my fill
growing up?
Tell me why
I prefer naked moonlit nights
to the shade of sunny days.

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