(no subject)
The sun makes everything gray. It washes out the green sparkling grass. It is turning my
golden hands blue. It saturates in reverse. Inversely (I go to college).
There is probably a scientific term for this effect upon the eyes. The color
blindness caused by the sun. Color blindness occurs in one out of every twelve males and one
out of every two-hundred and forty-three females. It is carried in the X chromosome, that is
why. Women are XX. Some women are born with an excess. XXX.
It is possible that this reverse, inverse, color blindness is akin to a defense
mechanism. In order to bronze, the sun must use trickery, blue skin, as a distraction.
Our light source deceives us.
The grass is now white and dry and still. One time He asked me, “Do you ever, when
driving, pick out a single blade with your eyes? Do you ever think that you’re the only one
to see it?” when the grass was vivid. But then my eyes proved less discerning than His.
We were on our way to the mountain. We would do this together, a team! Together we would
bend our knees. Together we would wipe our brows. We scaled towards
sunlight. We followed the light. One after another.
No, one after The Other.
Painstakingly onward. My quavering legs expressed hesitancy and my eyes remained
flightless, but still I was lead onwards, led upwards.
Through the darkness of leaves we made our way underfoot. As the light cracked
through the shelter of branches we quickened our pace.
We stood together on the barren top. We bathed in the heat and basked in the light.
The world became blue through my eyes. But he could not discern red from green.