Dear blue, cool to my eye,
painting the sky:
You make me want to fly
in a Boeing 747 across the big blue
ocean to Sverige with the yellow cross
piercing through flying, waving blue.
My first car was blue. At 16, I
prophesied I’d have a blue car,
and that it’d be, instead of a Plymouth Horizon,
the type that Dad had bought Liana and Justin,
a Dodge Omni.
(O, yes, I had to be different.)