Musings

July 2006

Musings Alternately There, and NOT!

By Jeff Ludlum & Scott Murphy

My mood shifted from bright to a quickly graying blah,
Slipping into a murky brown puddle, thick as soup.
"Whoops" is what came to mind, thinking she musta been seeing red as the evening waned,
And the orange slip of the sun pulled up over her head
Curbside prophet sitting under the greenery on the corner winked at me as I made the final turn: "It'll be ok."
"Trust you instincts- pure and white." And he turned his back to me.
As he shifted, coulda swarn he had one blue eye, one green...pretty mean.
It stirred my past, whipped me into blended marble swirl of the deepest blues
I scratched my noggin, short cropped, red goin' salty, smirked to myself, splash of fiery yellow spilled over the roof as I walked in the door.
Welcomed by the sound of crimson nails, sharp and hard, scratching the hardwood floor.

When'd the dog paint his toes red?
In the hope of a raging hump with the small grey poodle just next door.
Cheeks pink and rosey with a little thought a lovin', he was, is...good for him, them.
"It's in the air, tonight," in love, in warm rosé places beneath the bright moon.
Funny how that balance comes so natural, 'tween the beige sands and bluegreen, white-capped, perfect surf when me 'n the sea see it the same.
When blood flows like river to ocean blue, the heart of all that is me and her both
Creating that synchronicity of pure crystal clear, void the rainbow, yellows to purples all.
Scooping a prism of color in hands that hold the planets like small green-glass marbles
Stirring it all up just right, like a rich-red gazpacho, made from scratch.
Dripping hot from cool, pink lips to stain his pale chin

Perfectly light and delicious, spot on in the sweltering heat of late July.
I could hardly wish for more, my soul, my yellow belly full and round
Not a worry in the world, in my hazel gaze, everything just perfecto, what I crave, not a thing.
What benevolent grey god dispatches so many shades from his deep set eyes?
The same that created the mint chocolate chip, lime green and yummy, balled up high in my bowl.
You can know a child's joy by the stains on his otherwise white t-shirt. His history revealed.
Dark brown, scabs on both knees, above the buckled shoes, below her salmon Sunday school dress,
Secrets she'd not reveal to even her black robed priest in prayer or shout
Lessons learned from scripture and scrapping, tumbled from her skyblue skateboard two weeks earlier,
Pain she'll pass on with a rising of another yellow day.