Painterly

i am lucid
this time im spent exploring pavement
till my knuckles are white and ache from
grasping run-on sentences and kissing ceilings
as we pass through yellow lights
somewhere you are left clutching
our loneliness as if it were the last drop of wine
and poking toes into
the space between cushions, a dangerous endevor
to gain warmth and comfort
as i paint the walls a different color
and wish that i were home
i stopped analyzing
the many shades between two pigments
when i saw that startling shock of blue
and dropped off beneath the arches of my feet,
finding a place thats not so different
than myself
wondering-
what was it when you said
green

l.maczka