Shall we paint the town red?
Or any other color that means more.
The boring streets.
Sweeping the rain.
Dressed with cars.
Or shall we walk away?
No, not on a Thursday.
Bleak?
Yes, tortured by our treading laces
And ornamented with our soles.
We will dip our fingers
Into the street
Like it was made of wine.
And throw a spectrum over it
As we cross on a red light.
Or any other color that means more.
The boring streets.
Sweeping the rain.
Dressed with cars.
Or shall we walk away?
No, not on a Thursday.
Bleak?
Yes, tortured by our treading laces
And ornamented with our soles.
We will dip our fingers
Into the street
Like it was made of wine.
And throw a spectrum over it
As we cross on a red light.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
Katie-jo
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