Monday, June 14, 2010

mo

i met a man named mohammed last saturday. he was wearing blue, the same color as the mini-styrofoam cartons with candy eggs. he stood on the fire escape, jack with his rose--her hair adding five inches to her height. behind him was a top-floor patio, spiked with hazardous lawn chairs, and a wall that matched the cartoon blue of his shirt. a stucco afterthought, the wall was probably born green and sponged over with smurf blue, reinvented. his blue was mesmerizing. but when he stood hovering eleven stories above orchard street, gazing wanly at a store owner perched in the sill of sheherezade, unfettered by the altitude, i saw the wall behind him ignite the contrast of his bluest blue and his blackest black.

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