Tonight's Poet Corner: Our Eyes, Our Ways

Our Eyes, Our Ways
by Belinda Roddie

We don't see green the same way, and we
have different memories of puce and
chartreuse, of vermilion and viridian.
You saw my sweater and pictured more
of a seaweed streaming ocean rather than
the untamed beard of sagebrush.

The argument lulls in time for the evening
show, but it starts up again in good fun
in the office, where you claim your vision
to be superior to mine, until, at least, we
settle on the fact that our gazes hold
perspectives that don't fully mesh on the
silly string of the color spectrum.

In the meantime, we both eat cake, lemon
and chocolate massaging our tongues,
countering the apple beer we've prescribed
ourselves after a long evening. And I don't
have to work tomorrow, and we can sleep in
as late as we want, but for now, we listen to
our own preferred stories, leaving invisible
finger paintings on our keyboards, bringing all
the hues together into a glorious fucking rainbow.