Saturday, March 6, 2010

Blue Like an Orange

La terre est bleue comme une orange.
(The world is blue like an orange.)
--Paul Eluard

I am riding the bus
with a pumpkin in my lap--no pass
or pocketbook, no notebook, map
or keys. I only hold the pumpkin,
a perfect size, not so large
I have to stretch my arms
to keep it in its place, but not so small
that it could roll or bounce beneath the seats.
I wear a dress the color of lettuce, iceberg
to be exact. I like that it is scalloped
like leaves around the hem. I have no plans
for my spherical squash,
no thoughts of pie or lanterns,
salted seeds or soup. No, no plans at all.
I look out the window with something like interest
though there is nothing to see, no foliage,
no fences, no birds or bustling men,
only a sky with that light
peculiar to October,
light like a golden ball
sunk in a deep blue pond,
this gold so blue so bright it wavers,
common, strange, unasked for grace.
Little kids behind me
sling their bodies across my seat to Ooh,
you've got a pumpkin! Oh, can I
pet your pumpkin? Of course,
I say. Of course. I continue to stare
at the sky as these children--strangers to me--
touch for the sake of touch. Somehow I know
the bus has turned yellow, that yellow
only buses can be. I sit
with the sun in my lap.


  1. Colleen- I just finished a semester of creative writing. My instructor passed around some random creative writing journals for us to sift through- I just happened to land upon your and fell in love with. A childish comfort came over me while reading it-
    Thanks for your beautiful inspiration!

  2. p.s I hope it is okay that I reposted it onto my blog, with your credits and webpage of course

  3. Oh, sorry I didn't see your message until 7 mos later, but thanks! Who was your creative writing teacher?