dare i presume to touch
08/25/2010 12:21 p.m.


the most beautiful colour in all the world
does not exist nor can it be imagined
much like god, too simple and complicated
spiralling like a silk parasol tied to a disappearing rainbow
and rain tied to the ends of her hair
the colour, in its faded clothes, answers the door
polite, nervous, it invites me in to peer at the strange furniture
dare i presume to touch