“The Man on the Street Asked to Paint Me, But”

“The Man on the Street Asked to Paint Me, But”

I am a mix of

both blue and yellow.

When I say mix, know

they do not.

The yellow is light,

beaming from the top to the center.

Concentrated in my hands,

look at my

fingertips. It is yeast rising,

and garlic on the countertop.

The blue is dark, thick,

stuck at the bottom of my toes.

Feels like when the bath

goes cold. It is

getting over the hill

of a first, queer love.

Sometimes

my head is blue, so I add

water. It’s been fading

on Thursdays.

My whole being is either blue

or yellow.

Holy.

Obtuse.

Not once in-between. It depends,

you know,

what day of the week

it is.