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The Wall

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the wall was orange.
bright, vibrant orange.
“it’s ugly” the woman said.
so she painted over it blue.
and so the wall was blue.
but underneath, the wall was still orange.
then the woman moved away
and a man moved in.

the wall was blue.
gloomy, repressed blue.
“it’s ugly” the man said.
so he painted over it gray.
and so the wall was gray.
but underneath, the wall was still blue
and beneath that, orange.
then the man died
and his son moved in.

the wall was gray.
sleepy, dreary gray.
“it’s ugly” the boy said.
so he painted over it white.
and so the wall was white.
but underneath, the wall was still gray
and beneath that, blue
and beneath that, orange.
then the boy married
and his wife moved in.

the wall was white.
lifeless, suffocated white.
“it’s ugly” the wife said.
so she knocked the wall down.
and so the wall was shattered.
out spilled the white, gray and blue paint
mixing to black.
and there,
beneath the mess,
lay the crumpled orange.



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