Dionysus hid under the stage
when the bugbear entered the roadhouse
on Route 275 north of Colorado
last summer when rivers were flooded
with souls Hades refused.
The owl flew down from a snowy mountain south of Denver.
The festival continued with Pipers satiated with wine playing until dawn.
Dancers wore laurel in blond curls
that hung down their naked backs
and sang dis-ambiguous lyrics of an old song.
Lovers lay together in the pine forest.
We died in each other’s sweet breath and lambent caresses.
Dionysus rested in lucid reverie
naked by rimpled creek waters
while gods and goddesses smiled
in their etheric heaven
where all lived free
from the maw of mammon’s grasp.