in the semi-drowsy state of normal drunkenness
I sat and understood
for once why asphalt is black
but grey in the sun
why shadows don't cast any
and green is many shades
of grass tree envy colored on spectrums
widely various
the canvas comes white
already
blank and perfect
it is our duty
as artists
I suspect
to bespoil and smirch her virginity
color her with the yellow
of jealousy
the red of our blood
bled onto
the grey of uncertainty
a blue sky
someday