Cracks
I don’t want to work
I just want to go to the fridge
Without knocking over the vase on the table
And breaking it
I want to get something
I don’t want to work
Like you and the man
In the suit taking a cab
Measuring his life in change
And plastic
The woman over there
Is giving me that stare
Because I upset her
Indigo and marmalade ballet
And the vase is broken
And I haven't cleaned it up
And its pieces are arranged
The Tinted World
I tinted paint for a decade
Into cans to create colors
Grateful Gray and Chamomile
I saw in time that
I am black from the dirt
Most people
They come in
And I ask them
Do you want Lucid Blue
To paint your house
Show it off to friends
A color can say something
About spaces and objects
I was tinted in the walks home
After school shaded by trees
Or in the hot asphalt under
My feet burned to the touch
Color is light
Waves of sky
And darkness
We use
Our eyes to pull it apart
And devour what we want
Hungrily
Tint goes into paint
An ounce or two or three
Painting the world in shades
And blending it with
Cold fog in backyards
After midnight when
The pale moon rises
Color is blended so well
That you forget that you
Are dirt and grass and shadow
And harsh words separate
Nature into commerce
And you become Arabian Black
Sold under cover of darkness
You will take these colors
Home and paint your walls
But that Alabaster hue will
Sell so nice
Black outlines in a haze
A bike in rain
The tires spew water
On widening sidewalk cracks
In the city the smell
Of wet pavement while the rain
Pelts off a man’s hat
Walking towards me
The water runs down my
Face and arms and
I lay my arm to the mud
To see it blend
During that decade that I tinted
Paint to color the world
Someone said to me once
I want that color
And I thought she meant
The color of my shirt
So I gave her my shirt
No she said I want that color
Pointing to my arm
And I gave her what she wanted
Of course it was my job
And she took me home and put me on
Her walls
Broke
We are broke
Wallets empty and cards spent
Loans out and piled up by the door
They knock and peer through the blinds
But there’s no one to see
Something is wrong
At the heart of it
I don’t want to say any more
Because then I’ll have to think about
The car being towed down the street
And crumpled paper bills stuffed inside the door