mint green so tasty
so smooth on paper,
unquiet unguided on
a travel averse to
eating
what else can we do
with a color so beautiful?
a scrawl in the death
and corpse of a
lime, as inexplicably
smooth and tasteless
as uninvented perfect
foods, pointy letters
jarring when seen in
a yellowish light on
yellowing new paper.
a red poem beside
only aggrevates.
red and green being horrible twins,
any terror is theirs,
in christmas and in
wretched tampering with
more sedate greens and
evil Pinks.
any green than this
is the flavor of my
accursed wintergreen,
scourge of my long tongue;
anywhere it turns
besides this disgusting
here and now,
ruined and racked,
fascinating in fluroscent
as a flora on parole,
is unpardonable
and cheap.
Tawdry mint, live
as you are, beloved,
in this colorless memory
and never return in
similar lights;
make my experience
singular and unique,
diluted by the appearance of any
other green known to
the human eye.
Read into this poem your honor.