I. Yellow

They think they disagree, but they can't talk to each other in a way through which they'll realize that they're on the same page. A fly on a supermarket apple; you look the other way because it doesn't belong there. "She's so stuck up, but she's not cute enough to be that stuck up."

He looked into the water and saw the colors that you'd think it wouldn't have. The misty film on dark purple plums. A thumbnail by the sink. Another cup of tea.

A good walking distance between two destinations. The space between the top of his head and the top of the hat. Moving the head too fast wearing new glasses.

This is war. He couldn't bring himself to think that. Wipe the corner of the mouth with the hard flat surface below the thumb. Clean before you can see it's dirty. "What am I after?" he asked himself.

II. Blue

Very loud rock bands. Very loud motorcycles. Like living under a freeway. Itches all over after laying down insulation that no shower will take away. Waking up from a bad dream of standing on the assembly line again. Your eyes just wince in reaction. The callouses are gone. In the land of offices, they'll never understand.

He broke into a sweat, the good kind, where your head is in the air and your legs are pumping hard and your breath comes back into focus and it just feels good. It lasted awhile. Enjoy it while it lasts.

A cliche- it's late, it's quiet, and you hear the refrigerator kick on. Man, that's livin'. A car goes up the street. Stand and place each foot one after another deliberately and quietly until you fall into bed.

The joy when he saw her. She smelled so good, her neck radiated heat. He keeps thinking he can be a better person. Feel the grooves in your forehead with your fingertips. Just wondering.

III. Orange

Setting the fork down on the plate with the barest tick. Trying to make the voice match the action. Furrow brow and pick a crumb up to hold it in-between thumb and forefinger and examine it closely, looking sincere. He really means it, and they pretend to believe him.

Drive a rental car really fast and the landscape blurs in the periphery. Diner food and paper toilet seat covers (distinctive design combines quality with economy.) Another blond on the newscast. Polite elevators.

You can smell it but you can't see it. You try to walk away from it but it follows you. It nestles down in the threads, hangs for awhile. It's not going anywhere. It's you.

Do you really think? Do you really believe? Do you really act? Do you really love? Do you really care? How about: let it be; do the twist; dancin' in the streets.

IV. Gray

Winding through the canyon behind glass on four wheels. Tall sticks sprorting dull wavy fringe up high. Choppy river carrying peekabo shifty white tips. Granite boulders the size of a car, the size of a bus, the size of a house, a stadium of granite.

Here kitty, here. What gratitude, such indifference. Three paws down, one up and ready to move. I am just another thing in her landscape. I am other, but there's no prejudice, so nothing personal, and no hard feelings.

Hey Chief! "Big boys" playing Checkers in a land of Chess, Go Fish against Poker. So distracted playing video games they snuck right in through the door and slit his throat. Game over.

It was late, and it seemed like there was nothing there, but she found a bunch of stuff in the cabinets and the refrigerator and whipped up something. Whatever that concoction was it was pretty good, and they were pretty darn happy.

V. Red

Getting out of the car, turning, the sweat-soaked shirt stuck in an oval to the back suggests the face of Jesus to the stoner in the park across the street. Well, he looked like a stoner. He had long hair, he was hanging out in a park, and he saw Jesus' face.

He is pedaling, and as he goes over a bump the front wheel of his bicycle drops off. The bike plunges forward, forks digging into the ground. This flips the bike forward and he flies over the handlebars, headfirst, feet dangling behind him. And just as his left cheek is about to be crushed and ground into hamburger by the gravel he always wakes up.

Sixty-seven stairs straight up. Turn left, and then across the landing to fifty-two more. Into the narrow stone staircase that is cool and smells moldy and spirals up so tightly and steeply that you can't really look back down because there is nothing left to see. Narrow slits in the walls, where archers sat ready, looking over green fields and the lazy soft blue-green river.

Hold book up. Arms get tired. Hold book up. Eyes get tired. Adjust light. Recross legs. Rub eyes with bent forefinger and thumb. Look again. Hold book up. Clean glasses. Sip of water. Use bookmark. Head back. Deep breath. Head forward. Open book. Stare down. Hold book up. Proceed.

VI. Purple

Paring knife. A paring knife. I need a paring knife. I can't cut these apples without a paring knife. A really good paring knife is worth it's weight in gold. How can you live without a paring knife? Now I know what you need for Christmas.

There's a lawn with a sprinkler on it, turning and whirling, softly spraying water in a circle that lands at its edges on warm sidewalk to darkly sit and barely shine under the just flickering streetlight to reflect the fading sky, the late fading day, the stillness and silence after a day's labors, a day's play, another day of the sun beating down, and the dry air of the long day sluggishly moves down the street, over the hill, and into the valley.

Children of America! Listen and Rise Up! The forty hour work week is a sham! Don't get a job! Bum through Europe for a couple of years! Join the Peace Corps! Apprentice yourself to a craftsperson! Volunteer or organize! There's always time later to work. The jobs can wait. Put it off as long as you can. You'll never regret it.

I know what you mean. I was going to say that. You took the words right out of my mouth. We're thinking alike here. I agree completely. I was just going to say. I was wondering that too. I seem to recall that. Great minds think alike. I hear ya. I'm on your side. Never doubted it. Well waddya know. We are the same page. We're on the same team. We're birds of a feather. Marching to the same beat. Friends to the end. Buddies. Pals. Allies. Two peas in a pod. To our dying days. To the bitter end. Inseparable. Yeah.

VII. Green

Running away from chasing waves, leaning over for traction, toes digging in to curl and grasp the sand. Shoeless, running for postion beneath the floating frisbee. Watermelon juice dripping down between the toes. The feel of shag carpet. Running and standing, skittering and spinning around on the laid out water-soaked plastic sheet.

Air so clean, so thin, it hurts. It enters the nostrils, but so thin you're not sure it goes down into the lungs. You look through it, it's so thin, it goes on forever. You see what you see but you can't believe you can see that. Air is curved. Air is volume. Air is light. It is sculpture around a mountain, filling a valley, surrounding your body

Sitting in the dirt, legs folded, peeling the bark from a branch with dirty fingernails. Looking down and at the branch so closely it's really looking inward, concentrating on the bark coming off in dry flakes. Not seeing beyond, but still it's all there at the edges of the eye blurry and unclear, but vibrant and beautiful in shapes and colors that are hard to identify and not memorable, only there at that moment. The sensation of that kind of looking would be lost if he stopped looking at the branch and instead looked directly at the things he had seen without looking.

The sound of the bell carried through the air like a hummingbird, a softly muddled fast fluttering motor, the sound a vibration like waves in a pond one could almost see rolling towards the ear.

IX. White

The baby crying leaking through the floor the wall out the window. Merging with percussive whooshing and humming night sounds is it a cat it's choking breath holding tight gasping to stop move on on a roll fading then fading through the walls.

Some neighbors, they're just not friendly. Either shy or disinterested or rude until too late they're people eventually ignored. Couples who yell at each other become "those people." Everyone is one of those to someone. Hold your tongue hold your thoughts.

It's your car for the week so put the seat back so strap yourself in so figure out the stations so with a full tank go as fast as you want as far as you want so leadfoot so making time so not seeing not remember not know so it's scanning gazing glimpsing so your mind is so not your body so pull over so stop so breathe so remember so car or not so anywhere so you must be here so slow so kind so try harder so you'll be and so be and so others will so.

The sun behind shining in the side view mirror while ahead a rainbow arced over the emerald fields spread ahead of the new wet highway the landscape says yes be light, rain, colors. One of many you are greater as the many.