THE PAINT STORE OWNER
always dreams in Technicolor,
dreams that rainbows cascade
down the walls of his room,
of painting the White House green
and Red Square purple,
or repainting everyone's life
who passes by on the street,
that he can blend and make new colors
the eye has never seen,
that colors fountain from his mouth
painting murals in the air,
every sunset has a glossy sheen,
every color has an unlimited warranty,
whenever someone flips on a wall switch
they are mesmerized by the beauty in their life,
like opening a fresh box of 128 crayons
for the first time.
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"The Paint Store Owner" published in Poetry Tonight.
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