I think

November 8, 2007
I think

in colors, the

azure sky, mellow, melting

into night, after a

long day, the
rich red paint of a

shop doorway, peeling

from age and the

fingerprints of

thousands. My
heart beats butterfly-time, I

know what color
it is: the color of ink
sixteenths against a

stark white page, kaleidoscope

leaves sprinkling sunlight, the

reflection of flesh in the

clouded mirror on

my sister’s wall, that

is my
color, mixed with
another of bright

creased shirts, the

brown eyes of a

boy, the

voice of Thoreau, the

voids of our colors
overlapping, enveloping
the world, as,
the world is only
what you
think it.

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