I've put so much meaning into
colors,
and books,
and those looks.
the wide-eyed conversations
without words;
your consolations
go unheard
because my ear holes are near full
of color.

I haven't been able to write
a sentence that
doesn't stop running
since I dyed my hair blue,
as if they're trying to get away
and I won't let them go,
even though I want to.

"I am," is the shortest
(and my favorite)
sentence in the English language.

I am a sponge,
and a nail,
and condensed water
on the inside of your car.
I am a warm tube
of chap-stick
in your left,
back
pocket.

I'm the green on your pennies.
The seams on your denim.
The way the blanket falls
when you finally decide to go take a shower
on an unusually cold morning.

I'm the power you find
in an old man,
or a cold can
of yellow paint.

I'm the sky above your head
on the day you kept your tongue in
because the rain was too
bitter.

I am a symbol,
no longer nimble.
I am a spark,
afraid of the dark.