Technicolor hills

burst into flamingo pink flames and

pierce a cerelean sky

bloodless and leathery

like my arms reaching up

from this 1950s nightmare of hues

 

finding you cool and updated.

in 70s avocado and mauve.

“Toned down,” you tell me. But

I see the flicker of something more.

Something incendiary,

 

sleeping till one day when the

alarm clatters and

you’ll turn your morning the color of

finches; your sky —

jet blue and cloudless.