• I drag my paints brush through the meadows.
    Through the woods over the hills.
    Through the town, around the subway.
    And through the roads.
    so. I did not know what I painted the world.
    Of it's scribbled, messed up place.
    And I turn around.
    The trees are green and the towns are gray and yellow and all kinds of colors.
    Meadows happy with bright yellows, blues and pinks.
    And I pulled out a painting out of my coat.
    a picture of a dark place. where everything was black and gray.
    I put it down. and stare at the new picture. The new picture of the world.
    No blacks or grays. It was perfect. is was my world. is was our world.