I believe that it must have come from the sea. Imagine the first men, observing the deep – at first it looked black, maybe choppy gray waves. But gradually blue came forth with its name and its tears and its frowns and its sad country songs. Blue on their lips and running along the veins of their arms and legs and eyes. Blue then spread to the puddles and sky and so all was blue, at least for a time. The Madonna wore blue when her angels would come. On the joshua trees, the bluebirds would hum, hellhound on my trail. Chirp chirp. Tweet tweet. So cold I recall the gums on her teeth were blue and hard and chipping like ice. Blue on my breath as she passed by me tice and each time, paralyzed by blue thoughts of warm thighs, illuminated by the turquoise outside. Blue on a y-chromosome decades past. Blue in my genes, cut-offs in the trash.
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