the 4 x 4 post was askew
a leaning tower of pisa
the sign was half unhinged
a victim of the recent winds
or a prankster who didnít finish the job
it dangled in the breeze on this
very late afternoon nearly evening
the last spears of sunlight gleaming
my friend bob used to call it the
tall shadow hour
he produced an oscar winning film
built a house in the hollywood hills for
the woman he loved
with waterfalls and a dance studio enshrined in mirrors
but she left him anyway
and he moved faraway
the sign said for sale
3 bedroom charmer
sunrise realty
ask for steve
the house looked neglected
a shadow of what it once was or
could have been
owners without funds to pay for
curb appeal
it was a sign of the times
depression foreclosure ruined lives
a sign of desperation
but along the front fence
the wisteria was in bloom
glorious explosion of lavender
a vine prevails in spite of
bankruptcy greed crimes against humanity
and the light at this hour is daring
the house will not sell
for the buyers are just as broke as
the seller
the bank will take it back
the family will pack everything they own into a u-haul
the youngest child will pluck a twig of wisteria before parting
and on the journey to she doesnít know where
sniff it in the back seat
she will never forget its sweet fragrance
and her fatherís face as he drove without fear
and steve will quit his job at the sunrise realty
go back to school and
take up the cello
Maureen Foster is the author of three novels, and her essays, poetry, and short fiction have appeared in The Los Angeles Times, The Pacific Review, Word River, and others. She lives in Santa Cruz, California.
