Blue

Nothing's easy, is it. Everything's smooth like you're riding down a slide at a fancy swimming pool, and then you're under the froth in a blue kaleidoscope. That's where you've gone. To hide in miniature sun-dappled waves. Blue-purple dunes on the back of your hand. Tumbling, always.

But that's where we're supposed to be, isn't it? I buried a smiling face in the sand once, and forgot where I'd left it. Maybe someone else found it, held it in their arms, threw it in the sea. Fate is a separate star, twinkling out of sight while I sleep.

You gave me seven dreams, like gifts. All wrapped up and grinning. There you were first, a fuzzy-headed mischief maker. A guide somewhere that was unfamiliar to both of us. It was in a different time, I think. A strange place filled with wonders. You laughed and I sifted through artefacts.

We arrange puzzle pieces and burn them. Something's made in the blue. And nestled somewhere inside is the pulsing red. Those things that move your eyes back and forth, up and around. The pull that keeps you awake, whirling slow. A staccato wave. A pulse, soft.