Next one's called "Solstice," and it
begins in an airport coming back from this backpacking area.
Of course, it's quite a--
you suffer re-entry shock going from the wilderness
to the airport.
It begins in the airport, and then there's a flashback to,
just a very few hours ago, when we were strolling in the woods
and saw a bear, big fat--
once you see a bear, it's a real high point in your life
and have loose flesh and swaying back and forth.
And they look very human for us.
Now, also it bugged me up there in Idaho
because the sun never went down.
In the summer, the latitude, or longitude, whichever it is,
is quite different from what it is down here.
And my friends, who live in the middle of that wilderness,
were just down this weekend, and they said
it's pretty bad in wintertime.
Sun comes up at 9 o'clock and sets at 4:00,
or something like that.
But in the summer, it's the reverse.
Go to bed at 10:00, and the sun's still shining.
"Solstice"
"At the airport, the fried chicken
pops out of the silver box.
Sailors, a crew of saints, waving their arms,
welcoming rescue, but there is the salad, a miracle,
cool by its side, a forest just cut,
following its own clearing.
A puff of ice cream with a dot, and as you
take it in your fingers, swing them
past your face, the marrow swelling from the bone,
breaking through the crust, you remember
the names of all the children plunging naked
into the edge of the sea.
Up in the woods of Idaho, just hours ago, at evening, the bear
ahead on the slope, down on all fours,
walking in circles, a man in a bathrobe
with bags under his eyes looking for grubs.
So that beet in you fell into bed backwards at 10 o'clock
with the sun high over the horses in the meadow,
woke with its light still up."