Easy Being Green

For 42.5 years I have found it uneasy to be green.

And, I thought it was because of blue,

And all its arm-crossed demands.

It had nothing to do with blue.



This day while a Gemini Moon is transiting my 12th house,

This day while my childhood friend Ryan sings us Bird on a Wire,

This day while my writing group describes how two contrasting colours try to hold hands,

This day while the woman who ignored me shows up (out of the blue) and says,



“I’ve seen you from the beginning and I love you.”



This day I want to tell you green tastes like salty tears

That wash away all the trying and failing and trying again.

Green smells like clovers and clouds.



Green looks like the silhouette of fingers flowing through air.

Green tastes like the anticipation of blackberries while they are still white petals.

Green feels like touching my own head and finding it isn’t there.



Green has been a sleeping bag I visit when I dream,

Whispering, “Come, let’s runaway.”

Now I am lucid and Green says, “It’s time to stay.”

She isn’t whispering anymore. That’s on purpose.