Spare -- Star Black

If only the weather were Prussian blue
and the gaggle of dingys chiaroscuro
and all the shiboleths miniscule, quaint,
easy to relate to, ahnd if this sky, so blue,

where less than an elision of the truth,
and you were here, straddling a chair,
then, perhaps, I could be with you
and you with me, and we would be

comforted and comforting, and the veils
that keep us from seeing saturated colors
other than those we invent for one another,
would lift away, and the intruding

hesitations, too, and nothing would separate
us from loving, including Prussian blue.

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