Cold
Clear

it moves
powered by the moon
seeping

into cracks into
crevices

Water
Wet

it's pale light
still glows
with a low hum

the knobs still clink
when pulled and with
a dollars worth of quarters

popped into the slot
you can choose

happiness
sadness
or the candy bar

wrapped
in silver and gray
what was it called

Zero

Topographical
blue—
almost turquoise

mounted
on a leather desk
but ready to roll

as if the world were my marble
and I could shoot it back
down the alley

Glossy sunset
palm trees bending
a couple

almost a silhouette


they don't walk they float
above the sand with arms
not locked

fused
like Legos like
cogs

in a machine
grinding against
the tide

in the distance
at the edge
Diamond Head Rises

close but still
too far

An aquamarine strip
across the top

of the white porcelain sink
with

a few dabs
on the brushed nickel

the twinkles
in the blue solution

a galaxy far and away

my eyes glaze as I ponder my
escape

Brown stains on the porcelain
make the cup

look like bad teeth and bad
decisions

the short window of cleanliness
and innocence

before sugar daddies
and Milky Ways folded

into themselves
a galaxy leaking over the rim

Electric blue
cuts through red,
and white  splashes—

drops of drizzle
slide sideways,
skimming the street’s sheen,

garish glare
across
puddled reflections;

my mind drifts
like the lights

back and forth
between the two