(aka: blue eyes, red hair, the rarest of them all)

crystals couldn’t claim them;
not oranges nor the sun
not footsteps on the moon;
they spun in on themselves—
doubling down on inhales,
solar plexus solar flares*

(one hell of a trip, they’ll tell ya
if you’re paying attention—
if you’re lucky enough to be the being
whom their attention’s directed toward!
a truth from the basement,
if your blinking means anything,
a little eyelid S.O.S.

—or, maybe—

they’re just sight-seeing,
gazing away;
they’re simply lashing out
and batting 1000)

*milky white with visions of candy bars,
service bars—

she wears a hard-hat to work now
azul tools tucked under a hard-pressed
yellow-brim,

laughing to herself silently
(a sq. in. here, a sq. in. there)
because she can’t recall the secrets
she swore she’d never tell.