The Myths of Outer Space in Ohio

The Myths of Outer Space in Ohio



Sunlight wore a new dress
given as a present by her uncle: Uncle Nighttime.
It was some shade of lavender. No-one really knew why,
but on her it worked. Her uncle was a fop,
always trimming the end of his cigar,
lying in his single bed whistling Gilbert and Sullivan,
noticeably vague about his affairs.

In town, Nighttime had often been mistaken
for Anthony Perkins, something about the skinny frame
that never threw a shadow. Though
the family forbid him, his crush on Sunlight
was sizeable. He carved her name with an exacto blade
into the skin of his leg. Someone
had to invent Physics just to understand his motive.

Of course this was long ago, 1940’s or so.
Sunlight’s dress had a wide collar and the belt cinched
tight on her trim waist. Her hips curved
around Venus and drove all the lesser planets crazy.
Though Nighttime had poor vision,
he could see her luminance through the lavender dress.
It pulsated like a hot Artie Shaw tune.
When sunset rolled around
and he obtained a better view, he had to fan
himself with darkness so as not to faint straight away.

Sunlight didn’t know Nighttime even existed.
Hell, she was young, impetuous, liked to ride
around in the backseat of speedy cars, lean
her head out the window and scream, “faster, faster.”
Uncle Nighttime stayed in his room writing poems
and dedicating each of them to her;
he grew pale, took up drinking absinthe
from a special glass made of ancient quasars.

In Southern Ohio on a hot and sweaty night
the local police arrested Nighttime
on a morals charge. The family was aghast.
What with besmirchment and all,
concern ran high for Sunlight’s reputation.
Suddenly she remembered her Uncle,
his taste for damask and Belgian lace,
I suppose she was outgrowing the crude townies.

Her plan was simple. She met her Uncle
in the jail’s visitation room and slipped him a gat,
then began a slow striptease, removing one glove,
then another. By the time
she was down to her bra and panties
she had permanently blinded the guards.

Soon both had escaped into the alley.
Uncle Nighttime turned over the ignition
in a late-model Oldsmobile and headed out
toward Atlantic City.
Meanwhile Sunlight wriggled
into a waiting Studebaker ragtop.
Waving and beaming unrestrainedly, she drove west.
That’s all I know about it—
maybe they never looked back.
It’s a big country.



Above image: The moon completely covers the sun during a solar eclipse on August 11, 1999. Copyright © 2007 by Heinz-Peter Bader.

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