Tragically Tepid

Go ahead, vibrant one --

take your shimmering blacks and whites,

your raving oranges and yellows,

and let them all fade

to gray

while you submit, trancelike,

to the vapid cheer of

easy comfort --

traitor to yourself.

When you are as bland as unsalted french fries,

as listless and wan as a glass of nonfat milk,

desperate in that cringing corner of your soul

to escape the tyranny

of idiocy parading as wisdom,

then, perhaps,

you will recall the refreshingly rude,

blaring honesty of orange,

the scalding passion of red,

the intensity of black,

the ecstasy of white --

and you will pine, finally, for something

real.