an odd-colored evening

jellyfish white rain
falls from a pompei ash sky
plops loudly on my umbrella blue hat
leaving greasy gray stains
on my once jungle green trousers

smoky ember guitar music
floats from open windows
framed in day-after blood-umber bricks
the yellow-bruised green garden is soggy
nothing grows yet from the ransom red earth

my lava colored shoes are soaked
as I climb six flights of rickety stairs
the door opens as the bell twangs
she, clad in a prism purple bubble top
and flamingo pink tights
guitar in hand, greets me
in b-flat major chirping
“love the muck brown mudspots
on your hyacinth blue coat”
I kiss her tangerine lips
close the door quietly,
and blow out the carmel candles

afterwards, soft rain pings
seem more like pale ice dripping
we cuddle under a mulberry comforter
trying to hear the invisible flakes falling
and hoping tonight’s umbered sienna trees
have turned cream-puff white
in the morning’s copper sunlight



an odd-colored evening
[2007.19.4…d]
(Inspiration K.E. n° 2I)