Because I remember things, like people,
And skateboards aren't just skateboards,
they're my best friend and the memory of her pushing me around the kitchen in her longboard.

Pool and my eightball keychain are much the same, another friend's name attached to it like his lips to a drink, because god he could drink.

My uncle's the surfers catching their first waves and my older brother is all fighter jets and firemen.

Meanwhile, my mama's all roses and red bandanas, and the poetry I try to birth every night. And I only thought about colors when referring to her and I, red and blue mixing into a perfect lilac sky, but then my ex became green. Green like the olive sthetoscope they wanted and green like the song that hopes they're happy. But green, like the various shades coloring my house, doesn't phase me anymore.

Instead, life's a bit more yellow. Yellow, like the sunflowers I'd get Dali or the chicks my goddaughter would chase after on the yard. No. Yellow like the nailpolish you ruined and yellow like the sun that rises on the east.

Yellow, like fire or passion when you play, and yellow like the colors burning up the heavens at the end of the day.


Yellow, unbeknownst, laced into that first hello.