COLOR JOE
The red runs from the eyes. Five poplar trees are
shimmering in the wind. I know they grow fast, yes,
but they burn out so quickly. Five or seven years,
and they're gone. The blue above my head is the
same color of sky I remember from being born :
like robins eggs, like sky blue eyes, like a wonderful
sky being reflected on the surface a great big lake.
All of this is impressionistic stuff - items I simply
call in passing. Before long, I guess I'll forget it all
as I burn out much like a Normandy Poplar does.
Fierce growth - straight and swift - to a
stunning and soon demise.
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