My Favorite Color

My Favorite Color

Voicemail. I hear my worst fear, trans-

forming me to a sonneteer.

Take to this paper with a pen.

Purple paper waits to be spent.

Duck on water seeking some bread,

my beak just seeks the food ahead.

Smoke on water under umbre-

lla, drops fall still I wait on a fella.

It is the red rag to my bull,

ying to my yang, sunshine in rain.

Vibration I feel. Is it real?

All day I waited for the deal.

I’m in the sky flying with trains,

on the ground sliding with the planes.

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