Rainbow

rainbowjulyleonsignleonchurch

So it might or might not be significant

that I happened to be riding my bike

along the rough stretch of Third Street

also known as Leon Russell Road

and had just passed the old church

where Russell did some recording once

when I saw the rainbow arching

over the street and thought: “Rainbow.

Oh, a rainbow, and a nice one.

But that’s weird because it hasn’t rained.

[Beat.] Oh shit.” And then it rained.

Hard. Big hard drops of blinding rain.

But the day had been miserably hot,

and the big hard drops of blinding rain

were cool, almost cold relatively,

and even though they kind of almost

hurt, it was in a good way, like

being in a needle shower

at a bathhouse in Hot Springs, Arkansas,

a simile which probably won’t make

much sense if you’ve never done that,

but if you have, you’ll know exactly

what I mean. But either way, it doesn’t

matter. All that matters is that the big,

hard drops of blinding rain that

pelted me like a needle shower

were cool and they felt really good,

and there was a rainbow, and the

whole thing might have been

Leon Russell’s fault.

Copyright 2015

T. Allen Culpepper

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