Real World

“Do you know why the sky is blue?” He asked.

“But it’s not just blue,” I said. “It’s a lot of other colors too, if you look long enough.
It spends just as much time in black,
Sometimes with silver freckles sprinkled in.
And in the in-betweens, it phases through strips of yellow/orange/red/pink;
Phases as fleeting as they are eternal.
I’ve heard in some places, it waves electric ribbons of green and purple,
But right now and here, its rather gray with the overcast.
And I’m sure you’ve seen it too,
But you already made up your mind that the blue sky is truer than the rest.”

“You’re not answering the question,” he said.

So I talked about scattering frequencies and passed the test.

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Spectral Illusions

I’m finding it hard to see more than a few feet ahead,
But I have a feeling that the people who claim to see rainbows and butterflies out there are just hallucinating,
Because they never claimed to see squirmy caterpillars and rain.

They never mentioned squirmy caterpillars piling up on the sidewalks in the downpour
For a chance to escape drowning in the drenched earth
With a chance to evade sneakers and bike tires
The chance to fly too wispy and distant to imagine.

 

For all the boys who called me “exotic”

I had heard it enough to know you meant:

That I was desirable so long as I was shrouded in that cloud of mystique
(which was mostly just the fog in your eyes
but I didn’t have the heart to point out the difference)

And your foggy eyes lit up when you saw in me
Some alien freak here to show you a whole new #$@%ing world
So I tried to say that I’m really from this planet
And you’re not really the center of it
And between the deadness of Venus and Mars
We’re all life on Earth just trying to make it

But as you looked down to Earth
All you could see
Was some exotic fruit here for your consumption
To suck on the flesh and throw out the core


Despite my best efforts, I seem to have become one of those people who writes emotional poetry on the internet. Oh well.