Burnt orange?
I drove past a lake this morning
and it sent this colour back to me,
through broken umbrellas,
vinyl peeled away,
and I'm rarely awake anyway,
so I could be imagining this now,
a five hour flight,
slow dripping horror,
cleansing the palate,
between different perceived nostalgias.
The line between nodes is a careless visual -
it promotes completion
but being anywhere on that line,
or even the line itself,
does it ever seem as undeniable
as looking at a line?
Today it was two couplings,
one chewing like no-one's business,
and the other, on the carriage,
charging from end to end,
exiting,
coming back,
the blocking precise and as whittled
as their tools of dispute;
don't touch me
vs
what are you scared of?
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