White, with lavender veins.
These words have never been read together before.
That’s just the way words work. Ones and zeroes
and binary languages inspired by binary species.

Too many beers in one nights.
Too much green for one leaf.

Airport security scares me.
So do toddlers who glare at me.
Asking questions in their eyes.
Country roads. Take me home.

Pink. All pink. To the brink. A few weeks before blueberries,
there were pink flowers on shooting star whips
in taupe branches no one notices. Who is not looking.
Metal detector beeping out in the night.
Echolocations stacked. Like layers of sound.

Or a new swimming pool in the backyard.
And a reaffirmed friendship.

Discovered within undeniable benefit.
And yet. Some form of yet. Of future tense.
Some credit we borrowed from tomorrow so no matter what,
today, we stay friends. Orange.

Red orange burnt brown yellow petals.
Bent black on the ends.