i dream of magenta
and what do i see
but flamingos sans feathers
perched up in a tree
i dream in cyan
and the sky’s dry with rain
while the ocean is crying
with a glad sort of pain
i dream onto yellow
and what do i find
but that love is a verb
most incurably kind
i drift into black
and that’s where i stop
when the brain goes to blankness
and the eyelids both drop
