i'd bet i often have a colour,
and often more beneath a cover,
not so much to deceive but to avoid,
that i must not with every man or woman that come by
address that which causes me to behave as a chameleon
nor specifically to you yourself, for you are the cause of this particular hue,
this mix of reds, purples, greens, yellows and blue,
spotted like scales upon my skin,
so well enough veiled across me that i cannot see myself for the veil
nor answer my questions for the answer themselves
or the questions