At work
The changing glare from the busy street mixed with the blinding reflection
of the far away sun
leaves Ivan in a grey daydream.
The dark grey walls and the light mouse grey concrete engulf him
as he twists and tangles humid sticky tuna fish grey clay.
The silence of the monotone deteriorating studio
booms,
but the hustle and bustle of the city
whispers
as he swallows the grey inspiration.
The stale herbal scent of his raw grey materials bring bland grey harmony
to his chaotic and colorful wandering mind.
As he feels the dirty bead of sweat moist up
his chiseling faded grey sculpting hands.
He ponders the deadlines he needs to reach
in order for his figures to appear in the alive, modern, quiet museum.
But his mind is steadily thinking about something else
when he smells the faint aroma of cigarettes, leather, and expensive cologne
that belong to his dark but vivid boss, Dominik.

En Route
Ivan steps out of the 17th floor studio
where his grey day has been spent,
to hear the honking of the annoyed drivers and
the mutter of millions of voices compacted into a collective sound.
He slides on his fedora hat, while the crisp wind
run it’s loud fingers through the longer strands of hair that hang out.
The grey and industrialized establishments seem to open the doors
chivalriously to the small but mighty, powerful green trees and bushes.
He holds his once olive but now grey hand out to catch the obnoxiously yellow cab,
rudely disturbed by the immiture adolescent
blaring his violent degrading music.
He lights a long awaited cigarette to calm his overloading nerves from the workday,
which still does not do the trick to mask the 5 year old
stomping her stubborn spoiled feet
in a completely unnecessary tantrum.
As he waits for the cab to pull up to the filfthy city curb,
the comforting smell of a freshly baked cheese pizza fills the close air
and reminds Ivan of how hungry he really is.

At Home
Sliding the 150 pound rusted grey doors of the elevators, his eyes glimmer
to the bright wood floors and the accent deep red walls of his two bedroom condo.
The lights hang modernly from the detailed ceiling
and the bold colors of the artwork spread throughout the house
seem like nothing
compared to the warm affection from his two loud kids and his
body-like-a-coke-bottle, submissive wife.
As she takes off his black leather jacket
that hangs perfectly over his broad sturdy shoulders,
his wife's full ruby red lips declare " dinners waiting for us on the table love".
He gives her a fleeting grey kiss on her accented pink cheekbones and says
" just one moment, let me wash my hands".
He tiptoes into the zen sanctuary of his dark purple room.
He notices the multi-colored pencils, perfectly aligned on the sanded desk.
Blue,purple and green pillows become lively and smile.
He slides into well lit closet, patting his designer jeans,
for the exclusive-for-only-one-person cell phone.
The colorful socks organized in the drawer wink at him,
pulling him out of the grey hole.
The touch screen buttons seem so small
as hhurryingly dials the meaningful numbers.
"mmmmm I've been waiting for this moment my love",
passionately and sensually answers Dominik.