I went to an estate sale.
A woman was selling a baby blue guitar.
“It’s yours — I’m moving to Aruba.”
And off I went with baby blue in hand.
As Blue as an Aries,
was the name of the band.
There was a boy in navy blue swim trunks playing in a South Jersey blue hole.
I blushed at the site of him — pink.
I put down my guitar and started to paint my hair shades of blue.
Streaky and soft,
like watercolor ink.
I found a man in orange,
offering me warm bearded kisses.
I didn’t want them but I was cold.
“This could be a good move for me,” I thought.
I went to the bathroom to wash the paint out,
but the whole room was blue.
I thought seeing you would make me feel better,
but now I feel worse.
As if I didn’t hate them already.
As if I needed another reason.
I would tell you if it was your fault,
but it’s really not.
I would speak the words
if they didn’t make me so sick.
I would say them loud
if I wasn’t already gagging.
Some people make you feel worse
while some make you feel better.
I long for car sunburns,
sleep, and spearmint gum.
I’ll move to the Midwest and use it as toothpaste.
We’ll pass of Fireball on the road
and use bumps as pick-me-ups at 5am.
We’ll never think of the rain again.
Cry me a river and I will canoe down it.
There’s a nice sea breeze
in the middle of the city.
I haven’t seen a seagull in 3 days,
but I found my seashell necklace.
I thought I lost it in 2013.
My hair is blue now
It looks dreamy, dreamy, dreamy
If you run your fingers through it
you will find starfish
and rough sand.
You can take the mermaid out of the ocean,
but you can’t take the ocean out of the mermaid.
The Big Dipper shook dust off; onto my skin.
Made me a beacon in a constellation of people.
I am one of everything
and everything is one with me.
I’ll never wash off the glitter again.