Color Theory

They invited.
the dryness in my mouth, I mean,
and
the distant shifting of the sky, uneven in the east

I did not wake any others
have I the right to invite, who am not host?
The sand warm underneath,
my arms inside my shirt,
I am ready
to begin my lesson.

A fifth of the horizon
touched-
two fingers on two hands on the lip of a glass,
moving slowly apart slowly
utmost flirtation

orange
Two thirds!
Three quarters!
The dome of the observatory closes
hiding the stars slowly and cooly

mauve and pink liquid
banners of brilliant luminous white,
fanfares of red,
are soon to be exchanged
for simpler fare:
checkered blue and white
a breakfast spread

Did I forget the King?
He was there;
A Distant Traveler, upwards
Social Climber!
Too Arrogant for practice rooms,
He chose to blow his trumpet on the highest mountain,
does that subtle dance of his
an african man in white
cool jazz
aloof and unaware
that some might not care
that
he is so beautiful.

4:17-6:35am, June 24th, 2006