garden in the city

she wore a mustard yellow skirt in a grey city,
watercolored the streets a pale yellow as she crisscrossed
gliding from subway to skyscraper to sandwich shop

his bright blue slacks were sky against white washed buildings
which stood heavier than clouds
window panes neither filled with rain nor rainbows

they met at the corner of watsons and holmes
somehow they managed to spill into each other
though the traffic lights weren’t on their coffee break

their colors splattered against the crosswalk
stained each other at the intersection
buds of green grass were planted everywhere that day

half & half – 50% seen, 50% imagined
9.15.17, O., J., Planet Earth, Milky Way


unabashed smile

they told him the world was calling Mayday
pockets exploding into splintered seams
blue and green rags crashing soundlessly down

he didn’t care
they were biking side-by-side
she tugged on his shirt
he pulled her along
they laughed uphill

spotted 9.15.17, O., J., Planet Earth, Milky Way