Technicolor

I'm chartreuse.

And everything canary.

My dreams broadcast in tangerine and peony pink.

Technicolor is my only channel.

The knob clicks.

On and Off.

On and Off.

Click-clack.

I have no remote.

Smeared slurpy pinks pop.

Like gum smacking.

Like bubbles blowing big.

Orchid and Iris play lead on occasion.

Rich and observant.

Open and optimistic, their lines are revealed.

Emmys are won.

And eggplant is just too comfy close to Hershey brown, no?

Sometimes yes.

In fabrics and on feet.

Brillliantly blessed blue royale is definitive.

Strikingly, she airs with no commericals.

On buttons

In blouses.

In the eyes of my home.

All but me.

And so green I shall be.

A muddled mix of golden and moss.

Click-clack.

On and off.

I have no remote.

Oh, but chartreuse I am.

.mac :)