Poem: My Favorite Color

 

My Favorite Color

    --for Kathleen Trestka

 

What would I do alone with a gun,

if both of us were loaded?

They’d find—one bloody, one empty--shells?

 

And if I shot up the TV,

they’d only find, hangovered, me?

What if I continued to lie and to be

 

next week—because I don’t drink?

When my cash is also spent,

what if I got up and went?

 

You’d have to come back. As an ant?

What if flesh macho-dressed

like a successful ape?

 

A newspaper’s banana stain

and a pocket handgun beside trash

prove Tarzan dropped off during lunch?

 

I’m kidding. As long as neurons convert

wavelengths to hues, I’m content;

yellow is enough.

 

 

                                  Thomas Dorsett

                   --first published in Blue Unicorn, Fall 2020