For Lucio
At the bar, on its brick-shaped patio where honeybees mated in the trash bins, I contradicted you on Josef Albers’ theories of color. My first word to you: no. From you: silence, bee-wings making the gridded greens and blues of your button-up sweet. Later you followed me out, spilling through the door with a redlight kiss.
At night, behind your Victorian house’s alabaster walls, where we sat in the bare kitchen hanging the pasta over a string, you touched my hidden hair. All I said: “Persuasive Percussion,” “Interaction of Color.” And there was piquant rain, guitars, peacock-feathers, and garnet wine.
Photo credit: free range jace
Love it great story