My memories are videos, overclear stills
No one directing the mercy of our wills
Hours, years, tugging at an acre of fabric
Blue sky, dry grass, smooth cold bamboo dirtied by small excited feet

The world was elementary, primary colors
From art class to the house, bright and distinct
Separate and whole and honest
The world only was, and the world was house
Car
School
Existing within, without of a circle

But now the circle has been shattered and rebuilt
The colors blurred
And though it is beautiful
A sphere of dynamic, whirring, exhilarating pulsation
Change incarnate
It’s still change

And I miss the days
when the color wheel was multiple single colors
Stolidly purple
Fiercely green
Wholly blue
Instead of gray

Gray is also beautiful
And I guess it’s interesting
But it isn’t the color wheel