blue

“the moment i saw the second cop car pull over and turn its lights on the deserted road at midnight”

listerine blue:

fluorescent like the lights flashing behind me,

their reflection glaring through the rearview;

i try to glare back, my eyes start to water—

but it’s not because of the light

my blood is blue

or so i’ve been told,

no-oxygen blue-blood rushing back

towards my heart

beating faster, and faster,

blue like Kool Aid:

the baby pig we dissected in ninth grade;

the blue dye infiltrated its veins,

turning all its organs

blue, diluted, blue,

its heart: blue,

unlike the sky that hangs over me as i wait:

not like the starry painting-world i’ve grown to love

and gaze at: hold on for comfort: no,

it’s heavy, distant,

no longer yielding warmth for

those who find themselves

alone

under its vastness; i feel

ice, blue, shivering,

find the air conditioner knob,

turn it off, i’m shaking—

but it’s not because of the cold:

the dark sky has chosen to crash down anyway,

inundating all my senses senseless

as i gasp for air:

blue like… oxygen?

my mouth doesn’t know how to move:

is air swallowed or filtered: blue:

i’ve-forgotten-how-to-breathe, blue, i

don’t want to turn, blue

the artificial lights behind me

have disappeared—darkness, for a second—

but the cold hasn’t left me yet,

it’s still

blue