strokes

Our lives

    lines of red and purple,

    green and blue:

    streaks from wild crayons

    racing each other,

    dizzyingly tangling, criss-

    crossing

    merging, then

    then parting--as if never

    to

    be

    one.

    Across the starkness:

    getting lost,

    and missed

    and found again.

    Gathering speed, momentum

    to collision!

    And finally,

    those once-bright crayons lie.

    Worn, broken,

    next

    to the once-white wall.

A mess, a masterpiece.

Our lives.