One could hardly distinguish between
the hue of the sky
and the industrial water tower jutting his head
above the horizon, the depths of the city’s
flat rooftops.
Smoking from steel grey
Rhodesians, controverting the horizon.

Blue like whites in the laundry
That have been bled on
By a stray sock
Behind an oak like veins
Arteries bending and rebounding
To their original form
Flecked with rusty marigold bleach stains
Like those on the black sweater I wore
today.

Incense used to cover up
a marijuana trail,
purls out the slightly
cracked window
and flows through the pixel
apartment window screen as
clouds crawl across the sky
like the white feline flecked with
basement dust as he
yawns.

Reasons why I love you:

1. I could say that you are my sky but that would be cliché

2. The reflection of the sky beamed back at you.
Tiny, abundant crystals each produced
millions of portraits of the sun.
Fleeting angles scintillating champagne powder.
And it,
was beautiful.