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the reflection

if i mix red and blue will it make yellow
or a fragment of the odor
it could be the base
or nothing at all
the wash between cycles
or rinse
set apart
as if to be used someday
maybe
when the rinse cycle starts
add the vinegar to the starch
and shift really hard
rolling slightly with a glare
rabbit foot dancing with the clove’s
one munching on the other
i suppose none will be left
with the wind beneath the frog
of uncertainties, the log rolled
and things changed, for a moment
with time stopped and standing so still
as if painted on with your eyelash
squinting as it stroked the page
the swirls and lines all dripping together
as being united,  knitted together
as with water and oil
as i see it with many invisible lines
thinking that we can read each others minds
we mimic what we did with the dolls
and the outcome was not the same
we came out holding hands
we thought, we though it should be purple
but it looks like orange with gray polka dots
o the many polka dots, not put together with lines
if only they were just paper
then we could run them through
the shredder and put them in the right order
counting backwards as if being brought to life
with the strings attached and pulled
at just the right time, will make it alright
will make it look alright, yes it will look alright

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