Twilight

i never understood grey

At night, i watch through the passenger window
grey, darker grey, gradually black

grey like my old cat,
grey like your eyes (maybe),
greyish-green, or
bluish-grey

so many
many shades of grey (gray)
they dance past my window at 70mph
trees pirouette,
circling the sky.

These hours of color theory
how would a reddish-grey
look
on black skin
would yellow-tinted grey smell
like July summer?
could i cut into the fog with
my palette knife,
can i eat frosting
of winter at dusk?

The contrasting moon
sends streams of pencil lead through my forest
At night, grey figures creep, seep
lurking, stalking, or sleeping
the movement of pixels in a dark photograph

i blink my eyes like shutters

carefully recording

roadkill grey
pavement grey
grass grey
mountain grey

So many colors Crayola forgot.
forgotten greys
fleeting shades of grey through twilight,
emanating an eerie silence through mountain fog

goodbye mountains, goodbye forest,

goodbye roadkill

A small town suffocating in
grey shadow, a mist
carousing through deserted streets.
At a stop sign, the car stops
i see an old church
A whitish pencil-smudge
surrounded by a graveyard.

Cold stones, amidst stone-green grass
the moon still follows me,
throwing its tear drops into my eyes

If a blurry vision of night could talk, it would speak out exhaust through this holey muffler.
Gurgling radio static sounds like your eyes
(in my dreams)
your eyes are grey,
like

calm water
fire cinders
the color of my room by the light of the moon