It is a seizure of silver, a pulsation of strobe,
a disco ball churning,
a matchstick darkening a watch of mauve.
It’s neither a surrender, nor a collapse.
It’s an appreciation.
It’s an accountant coloring his paper-white test
with a melon breakfast–
colors and light,
one is the magician, the other, his tool.
I am in the audience being fooled.