One by one. Some where sweet. Some sour.

Some were voluptuously insane.

Others dry as a desert. But in all there were colors.

Beautiful colors. Including black and white. Some painted

in yellow, the color of madness. Some in green, the color of the

forest. Others in blue, the color of the pupil of God.

The ones in black always showed me the stars. Can not complain.

But in any shape and form I drank my dreams.

Sometimes I recalled them the following day. Others I didn’t.

But there was something present in all.

Your arms and your sweet lips.

EO