The pastel colors of the young
magenta sky are
Painted bright on my eye.
My words as bare as the road,
empty as my stare.
A great yellow bird flies.

Feeling is worn
like a warm flannel
that smells of campfire smoke
and
     maple syrup.

While pastel colors
of the deep sky
     gallop through
     my head like
the feeling of cold velvet--
brushed upon my skin
    I
grasp at sleepy lightning bugs,
hoping they can teach me
how to close my eyes for
longer than a blink.