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81 colors under desert sunsets my mother painted my soul orange (I am fluent in orange) there was a time when I bathed myself only in black (I tried to cover up her paints) I shouted dark purple, brown, and blue when they came to mind (it stained our house) deep bruises seeped into the tree wells and out to the street (that ugliness got old) I flew across oceans and gardens and mountains (collecting the sun’s paintbrushes) now I carry my words like colors in my head and paint stories (on all the blank walls I can find) ...

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