Mean Reds, Come Down

Some days I get the mean reds

Holly Golightly once distinguished them from

the concrete, understandable blues

Thus, she goes to Tiffany’s and I go

to the eschatological zoo

Times are ending, according to

those who birthed us around 1982

And, some days the mean reds

cause me to greedily want that as truth

But, here we are

Able to scale the walls with our fingertips

And push our faces against the literal windows

And feel the gravel under our calloused feet

I get lost in the maze of streets

where cars all are heading in specific directions

Yet, I sit on the literal bench, which is floating upside down

with my eyes closed

While gusts of wind

disentangle my eye lashes

asking for sight

But blood rushes to my head

distributing the mean reds into

pockets of punishing thoughts

Turn me right side up, please

I want the despondent blues to ensue, please

Where Ella comes to my side

piercing her voice into my heart

permitting tears to gently fall

Like melted snow on a hill

Princess cut diamonds won’t

save me

As it attempted to rescue Holly

Neither will my judgments

Instead I will search the place

where the honesty of voices

ring around my soul

Yes, your pain can be defined

not just waffling inside a nebulous metaphor

Yes, loving self and other is tragically slow

with measures of pain incalculable

and failure inevitable

But, like the melted snow on the hill

so your innermost beings will surface

with rest



and a relinquished lover

at your side

At my side

as I am at his

Mean reds come down from up there

use the rickety stairs

that promise not tomorrow

and change into a cobalt blue

Where I can weep and be free

from the supposed constraints of indescribable




And live

on a wet hill like a tree


1 Comment

Filed under poetry, Uncategorized

One response to “Mean Reds, Come Down

  1. These are the words for which I have been looking to describe what my soul has been experiencing in recent weeks. The mean reds must certainly be connected to graduation, transition, change, and yet your words draw me out and bless my weepy wet hill.

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