When it started, we all painted rainbows
But Stacey paints more and more with blue now
Her brush moves carefully, etching out numbers and figures
She takes her blue masterpiece with her on the train
Her heels click on the pavement

But I still have Mark
We paint the flowers together
Laugh at all the blue kids as their arms jerk the brushes
Soon, Mark’s flowers are mostly just red and yellow
I start using those colors too, but I miss the purple

I paint in pink now, like I always truly have
Mark likes my pink butterfly
He doesn’t even mention when I switch to green trees
He keeps painting his flowers, smiling through the hair in his face
They’re all orange flowers on the day his old hatchback lurches away

The rest nod to me on their way out the door
They carry off their blue or red or purple pieces
They look at my rainbow

(They have to squint to tell what it is
I’m painting with a dry brush and congealed paint
Which makes for a strange picture)

I have to leave now
I grab the red, paint a quick, angry robin, and shuffle out
I drudge into the house, and sheepishly give her the robin
Mom sighs, and shoves my angry robin in her desk
This one won’t go on the fridge

When it started, all my paintings went on the fridge
Especially the rainbows