(If it Matters)

Life ran bitter on my face
And mind,
Dust on wind, rain on glass
Wind in dead trees -
Only there - Only me
Blue: for her, soft summer sky
                me, a darker winter lie

She stared through me there
An empty, unfocused stare
Like looking at the distant ground 
through a dirty window pane
Or a dusty, cobwebbed screen 
from a grey December room

I remember how it was - and is
            And wished

A pendulum swing from existential to conjectural...
from mind in the pants to mind in the clouds:

Still Life of A Pear

           (as the artist remembers it)

it was green, as i remember it but,
not so green that it reminded me
of bile
or avocados
but, just green enough to make me think
it was a pear of the green variety.
 
sitting there alone in the fruit bowl
that made the table look too small
to be suitable for taking breakfast
after one's usual Friday night doings.
i managed not to let my stomach lurch
to the green's unsettling evocation.

Re modeling

Today  we paint the room
Not the red we were promised
But a yellow we forgive
It makes us feel… wish… think
It must be good
we paint the room with it -
And we were promised the red.

The Paradox of Agreement
                     (built into the  complexity of vague)

he said “red” thinking of battlefield blood
she heard “red” thinking of sunrise presaging a storm
he: “makes me sad”
she: “and uncomfortable”
Watcher: “they believe they agree.”
i: “It may well be true!”
Watcher: “That they agree?”
i: “That too.”