Ignition from the blues


For the instance
I was a cool green car,
polished to reflect
in its hub caps
routes of small town roads;
painted yellow homes.

Verges on either side.
Their small garden breezes
combed our hair,
they rolled down car windows,
rested elbows for you and I.

And we knew where we were,
but not exactly the destination,
yet it was a fine way
to get there, familiarity
with colours energized.

Bees outside fell into trails,
buzzing old radio tunes
of optimism. They sped alongside
black and yellow stripes,
this track out of the blues.


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