Look out for cops in the woods
And bears in the city
For the exotic flavor of everything but what you expect
The sweet taste of colors
Black, blue, yellow, dark blue, purple, white, another white and green, another white but more blue, orange, blue, blue and blue.
Green, has a slightly darker taste.
A gentle touch by yellow
A punch by grey
Now I’m running on grey, while eating orange, smoking blue
and speaking red.
The kids don’t feel it or taste it
I see a bunch of thirty and forty year old kids
I feel like a wolf.
I feel like a tiger, still a little bit like a wolf perhaps
More like an old lady with tigers and squirrels in a garden house
The tigers ate all the carrots
Timothy says it’s important I don’t get lost in the city.
I feel good and not bad
Not at all
Unless the city crumbles and i have to hear the sound of the shapes
Becoming dark blue and green again.
The bus driver is driving.
The people are floating downhill
The patterns and I are struggling to fit in the pavement
The chamber of reflection is wide open
Look there is a bird again.