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.