I'VE TASTED COLORS THOUGH

I'm telling you, those sun stripes are called the glories,
that small car is painted perfect mint,
and all these doors are playing off the hues
of others that come before.

Radical hedges,
ornamental screen doors,
you know, some driveways
could be swimming pools.

Who knew about this place:
petroleum pipeline that mirrors
the exit course of airplanes as they ascend,
blanketed in green, a place for us to walk.

Sometimes patterns exist
to cushion conversation,
others are so poignant
that they bite.

Then we come to a house
that turns out to be a temple,
bright orange and violet
rising from the woods.