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Alan Harris reading
Commuter Queries the Sun
by Alan Harris
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My trusty train hauls me orangeward from this 5 o'clock plastic city into an on-time sunset. Fried-egg friend, over easy in the wispy west, innerly whisper me what you are. A star? Yes, but are you a you or merely a major it? May I commune with you in the hollow of my heart? Dissolve shallow knowledge? Understand you? Humbly may I harvest your richer spectrum than my life in the office offers? If I knew you, would I be you? To reach your light must I groan with long effort and escalation? Or simply relax with easy exhalation? Unanswering, you fold the shimmering cloudy whites around your blazing yolk and drop away. Breath of good night is felt below my horizon. Suddenly I see you shooting aloft for thirty seconds a brilliant vertical shaft of orange as if to acknowledge we know we know each other. My train trundles on. |
From the book Blue Sky in Buckets (1990)
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