White. +Matt Matlo
White was the color of surrender and the last sight on dark nights where mad men burned down the symbols of my youth and proclaimed themselves the one, true, vision of enlightenment and divinity.
That was the color of the froth on the sea the day that hell came in and I watch a shark swim through the waves as a surfer jumped it. I screamed out as its jaws opened and the devil himself showed up to offer the boy a contract there on the spot.
The sound that came to me after the canon fired and shrapnel exploded off the trees and back against me. I can still hear it, feel it, and remember it when the night gets as dark as a grave and the stillness of the world belies its lie.
A sign that read “Only” over the gas station door telling the world that a bigot made his living there and I shamed him for being small even though he was four times my size.
Was the smoke that came out when her car blew up and I found myself loading her whole life into the back of my pickup truck while she cried, and cried, and cried.