"Bob
One of the colors
is missing
from our world."

++++++++++++++

I.
the insects are scuttling the dark streets this evening
all crunch legs reaching across uneven pavement
moving quickly to caverns of brick
portly crusts of bodies that tottle
from one set of legs to the other.

II.
and all i do is sleep and not sleep
and dream moments that move into illusions
and in waking time i can no longer distinguish
if i really saw a shooting star or not.

III.
the ghosts are lingering with such persistence
without providing any fantasy.