a city has no color, no true color. slow colors, gray walks, gray birds, gray people, mixed with hypercolors, flashing lights for all that consumption, flashing lights to stop all that consumption, flashing lights courting other flashing lights, no seasons in a city,
fall came to being because it became jacket weather in my nightly treks for something.
.
all I saw was the color of the tree across the street. it was bright, bright beyond red, orange, yellow, too many colors to count or known. I went outside and stared at the tree, soaked it in so much that I burnt a hole in my glove from my smoke.
the neighborhood dog came by to sit with me and we both decided after a few drinks that the tree would burn into the core of the earth itself if it continued this way.
fortunately, in the next few days, the fiery embers fell and the ground quietly nurtured them to sleep.
.
waves of orange forming in the mountains, building every day, all I know now are seasons, corn stalks gone, squash bed uprooted and slowly the earth now holds just earth, it needs to know itself again, completely in its own wealth,
those waves of orange, the last joy it gives, the last gown to entice,
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Ciara ♥
