The Only One Inside Your Head

Tell me who you are—

create, arrange, present your soul to the world

—shock me, let me see.

Sell me red

lifeblood: deep-rooted, dependable warmth,

crimson bricks, closed eyes in sunshine;

orange, tangy flames dancing a ritual, tangerine

traffic cones, pumpkin pie, lifeless leaves on brittle winds;

yellow: energy—out of control, crazy energy—pure

adrenaline, exhilaration, falling frantically,

obsessively in love with another man.

Sell me green

frogs, fresh dirt, kindness (picking up worms

after rainstorms kindness) pine needles,

a breeze over interlocked fingers;

blue music—once velvety, now heart clenching,

crumbling, subwoofer-earthquake music—berry

shaded jay birds, the sea, holding someone while they cry;

purple flirting, skipping down the pavement giggling,

lilacs, lavender, vanity, leaping

into outstretched arms.

Tell me who you are—

on dirty roads, old tin roofs, graffitied bridges,

railway cars, brick walls, anything you can claim

to prove you lived, to prove you’re here

—shock me, let me see.