Oranges Poranges
Posted: May 27th, 2005, 2:22 pm
Orange bothers me.
It is not only the word itself--
after all it doesn't rhyme.
Oh-raa-nn-geh sounds pushy
just like the color.
Its loudness bothers me.
Orange is the color of emergency
of alert and alarm, of dying trees,
of silly great pumpkins
only to be squashed
in goopy splats on asphalt.
But on second thought
or should I say on second sight,
don't I harbor a secret attraction to orange?
Halloween and the combo of black.
The tiny spurting mists of a tangerine skin.
The cool sweet bright of an opened melon.
The deep flare red orange of florescent cones
and surfer dude beach attire.
I look in my bathroom sanctuary,
thinking the cool blues and aquas
color my world and there they are:
orange soap, grapefruit scented,
orange shampoo, citrus scented,
even orange toothpaste, orange flavored.
Orange bothers me, or do I
bother orange?
It is not only the word itself--
after all it doesn't rhyme.
Oh-raa-nn-geh sounds pushy
just like the color.
Its loudness bothers me.
Orange is the color of emergency
of alert and alarm, of dying trees,
of silly great pumpkins
only to be squashed
in goopy splats on asphalt.
But on second thought
or should I say on second sight,
don't I harbor a secret attraction to orange?
Halloween and the combo of black.
The tiny spurting mists of a tangerine skin.
The cool sweet bright of an opened melon.
The deep flare red orange of florescent cones
and surfer dude beach attire.
I look in my bathroom sanctuary,
thinking the cool blues and aquas
color my world and there they are:
orange soap, grapefruit scented,
orange shampoo, citrus scented,
even orange toothpaste, orange flavored.
Orange bothers me, or do I
bother orange?