observations #3, spring ’15

Outside today I saw blue sky & two sets of mountains & a rust-red barge & yellow tulips in green boxes above my head.I could use a whole box of crayons what way, coloring in the things I saw today. First I’d start with the primary colors like I told you–blue for the sky & maybe a different blue for the mountains–more purply, & red for the barge & yellow for the tulips. Then I would add in other colors, the ones everyone knows: forest green for the flower box & orange for the neon salmon sign & my mimosa at breakfast. Black for outlines & eyelashes, grey for cobblestones. Pink for the flowers you bought at a deal from the Vietnamese woman. Then come the colors no one knows or uses anymore, even though we do because we read books: mahogany for the wooden rail well-polished by years of oily grasping hands, sienna for her hair far back from her forehead. Cerulean for the leather journal you picked up & the forget-me-nots & your eyes. Wisteria for the sour yoghurt we sampled, chartreuse for the pants I tried on, crimson for your new lipstick. What’s left in the box? Only the flesh tones, the ones no one ever uses except to smear up other ones. What to do with them? They’re like the flesh of the fruit we didn’t break open, the nude pumps we didn’t buy, the white knuckles we didn’t press.

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