Solar Effect
 by J.B. Henry

There is a lull between late afternoon and the spoken word that exists only behind the wheel of an automobile
The sun is so crafty at this time of day.

You know what it can do.
I don't need to explain how it pulls on things.

You know what the sun can do to pastel steps by a painted rail
Or a basement door where a leather strap was nailed

I had searched each upper floor before we left
In rooms I shook the dusty corners bare and swept the rest into central hall above the highest stair

I did right by my dad's old place
And when I was done, and when I was done,

(like a memory of a memory it molests me )

North Texas is not kind to houses
And the late afternoon is not kind to
The robber barons who bring down
The last of a generation

My wallet is filled with fifty acres of Texas
And the air is full and bright
And the sun is pulling the gold outta the
Purple rye and the tall grass

This has delivered me once again.
She makes a noise at last and
Asks that we stop.

I will leave it at that
But for the solar effect
I have parted with regret
And the sun has set

It has grown lighter somehow
The return of deja-vu never lasts too
Long anymore.

Good bye you old clapboard disaster
After all you did have blasted look
Except when the sun is just right
And there is the hum of the tires
And she is sleeping
And November is about three weeks old.
~~~~~~~~~~~

©2000, J.B.Henry/ Redbird Café
All rights reserved by author.
Unauthorized publication prohibited by law.