A Colorful Ball of a Yarn

Red is dead; said Fred from bed, Blue is to, sang Sissy LaCheu; What about Grey? asked Captain Millay, are they deceased? Did they die eating yeast? Did the service have wine? Did all have a good time? 

That depends, said Charcoal & friends; good? Maybe not, but wine? Yes a lot. & cheese & meats & breads & beets. We feasted & fêted & nearly covfefed. The music was loud the mood melancholic pont l’vêque stained the air – so very bucolic.

Orange is back! shouted Milly the Mak, just in from Berlin with new violin. So too is Green mentioned Quincy the Queen, but feeling uneasy & just a smidge queezy – she asked for pralines & 13 fried sardines. 

Yellow! Shouted a strapping Young Fellow, they just pulled up in a HUUUGE coffee cup. What’s with the ride? asked Clavicled Clyde – did the broom snap in 2? is your bike needing glue? did your skates get the gouts? were they rolling with trouts? Naaahhhh, spoke Pink, while mixing a drink, cups are the modern equivalent of clogs but so very much faster – faster than frogs.

Chartreuse & Alabaster, aside Fuchsia’s pal Fern, stopped short when hearing how icebergs might burn. FOR THE LOVE OF LAWRENCE, laughed Louis LeMon why are dogs burning mice-curds & won’t that keep up Old Beaune? 

SHOOSH cried Violet, go chop off your ears, they’ve not heard in ages & they scare all the deers. Oh Kumquat pipe-down, you’re 5 sheets to the wind, the deers make haste for they like not your cheap gin. 

Maroon busted 2 guts & laughed til he cried – fell off his stool & with rail did collide.

Never one to be uncomposed, a chain-smoking bastard they all called Gamboge, flicked an ash toward Sir Speckle & winked at Merlots – then opened his trap & spoke through his nose: “If the language of love were standard & straight & 17 Bearcats stood watch over fate – then never forever would hearts not collide combusting & rustling as lava laps tide.  But trust in the letters & seek not acclaim & every 5th new moon catch Jupiter’s rain; sit still by a window drink wine til you’re sauced, confess to the Junebugs in swamp woods get lost”. 

In through the side door strode Black with her Man,  surveying the Preachers & Potters & Stan.  “What’s happenin’ my crew of Colorful Dears? Wherefore & therefore & buckets of tears”.

All the friends cheered & cried “WELCOME BACK!” “We missed you m’Lady can we help you unpack”? Unpack my mind, Black thought to herself,  unpack these memories hidden top shelf.  Unpack all the whack from the back of the rack and unload the rabble lest we loose lips & babble. 

Juniper Berry stepped forward with Larry and wept, she’d missed her dear friend and for months had not slept. Embracing and facing and tracing the lines, longing for summers of tequila rimmed limes. The friends melded together as salt in the sun giving butterfly kisses til sugar comes rum. 

Caramel lent his shoulder for Black to lean on as she softly sang of the burning of Babylon

Delivery of livery with stable aside broke up the reunion as moonbeams belied – Five lil fat cats rushed over to watch, as horses and donkeys and goats and a fox, trotted and stepped down the path where there’s kept, rye and barley and cornbread and speck. Let’s have a looksee said Aqua Marine, these beautiful 4 foots are simply pristine, I must know whence they sailed on high, I’d bet a bucket of oysters they’re raised Moloka’i. No one debated, there wasn’t a point, it mattered not whence because Slate sparked a joint.

Tirdy-Five Drops of Darwinian dew dribbled down Dandelion’s dram of hot roux. Cranberry blushed as Curry quietly coo’ed“I’d give six nickels to hear Ruby croon, and what magic he conjures up in the bedroom – twin sheets tucked tighter than a neck of taut nerves, shirts crisped and folded with vigor and verve, he’ll even dust the sideboards if they’re looking unkempt and water the meeces and suck out the vent. Lavender’s ears flapped in the breeze, picking up on the pleasant unease – from the vocal chords of Curry and Cream; as if wandering through some dystopian dream. Pink was quick to commence the stirring of drinks, providing salvation for Bohemes and kinks.

As for Eggshell, & Ivory, & Willy Wort White, they packed up some snacks & quickly took flight. Making tracks to Alabaster’s new underwater spout, they spied a slew of sallow seals scurrying about – sullen & swollen, blubberous flippers in full fray – teaming with gout they cried for Sunray. Those seals hadn’t eaten their veggies in days, slurping up oysters, shellfish, bacon wrapped soufflés. Eggshell called Fred (still lying in bed) who called Fuchsia who texted Rose who sent a telegram to Violet who passed a note to Gamboge. He stroked his prominent upper mandible while searching for a name – and shifted slightly to his left before – “The Dame!” “Cerulean”, stoically smart, “that’s the One who can help us out, tell Olive Branch to phone Date Palm and bring 45 lake trout”.

Cerulean was out stripping stained sea dragon and jellyfish souls, they’d been tarnished and varnished by cuttlefish shoals. Seafoam swam up to pass on the word, Cerulean looked up and said, “that’s absurd”. “Of course you’re right”, Seafoam acknowledged, “but those seals are impervious to the letters from college”. Drinking vats of brandied sea cucumber then hiding out for 3 days of uninterrupted slumber; eat, drink, party day & night, those seals, surfers, & slackers looked a’blight

in keeping with tradition of the ancient Eggplant Platapough. The cantankerous Cuddlefish relished a trip through a reef adorning the aquatics with heart shaped leis of seagrass and weed; and while the gesture was lovely and adored by all, the soiling of soulful swimmers left a mess of crustaceans atop the atoll