Hue Art You?

 

               I know I am not like the guy in the cubical next to me.  My skin does not match his.  My hair is straight, in its own natural way.  What I consider natural anyway.  Maybe other people have their own considerations for natural.  Some people have no consideration at all, for many people.  His hair has what I claim are waves.  Others have what I interpret are curls.  Even though we both speak English, the general verbs are different, some times.  That seems to me like a lot, but then, I am interpreting that.  The nouns are different.  Or when they are the same, they sound different.  One of us puts ‘S’ at the ends of a lot of nouns.  I noticed that one of us uses ‘O’ for what I feel is ’OOO’ and that person puts ‘OW’ for what I thought is pronounced ‘OU.’  ‘Pronounced’ has that in it.  He actually noticed that and told me.

               At first, I felt like he scolded me. Sometimes, it seems, he told me, that I ‘Colded’ him.

               But after first hearing from each other, and attempting to understand each other, we got along.  He works on some things similar to me.  I work on things similar to him, sometimes.  Sometimes we work on the same thing.  Sometimes I have to change something that was a part of what he worked on a week ago.  Sometimes he has to correct something I worked on a couple of weeks ago.  I, he, they, whoever, don’t ever totally agree on what ‘Correct’ means.

               When I grew up, I got to know my parents.  It took some time, but I could not avoid it.  And I eventually began talking to my brother.  After a while, I began talking with my brother.  Finally, we learned how to answer each other and then even speak to each other without the other one of us questioning something.

               When I read about where, over many centuries, certain people came from, I got to know, or at least vaguely understand, my grandparents.

               Then I took the chances of and on interacting with my neighbors.  At times I thought they were of different races, and/or and from a different country.  The more of them I tried to talk to, and eventually with, I noticed some from even different continents.

               That was when I noticed that my Aunt grew up on the West Side and that is why she sounded different from my Grandfather who grew up Down South. 

               I found I had a group of nephews who lived and worked and put up with the sun.  Our sun.  Everyone’s sun.  Their skin tones resembled, in different ways, some parts of some groups who my parents called ‘Races.’

               When Kindergarten started, I was abrupt and shut up.  By first grade I knew, was taught, taught myself, agreed to that we were neighbors, even if we did not live next to, and it grew to, near each other.  Blond hairs, brown eyes, yellow teeth, deep voices, walking in step, bending your backs, noticing none, noticing some, noticing all, admitting it, proclaiming it, hating others, and getting along.  It is all different.  It is the people, places, and things.  What are things.  We, and the air, and the dust, and the rocks, what is in our veins, what is in our souls, what comes into our eyes, what comes out of our mouths.  It is all different.  And in some of our realities, it is all the same.

               I looked at that dandy lion.  It had dark roots.  The skin on its tube coming out of the ground was white.  That skin supporting the green complexioned leaves that surrounded the sweet smells of its yellow flowers.

               My neighbors, my classroom neighbors, my grade neighbors, my school neighbors, my neighbors neighbors, my relatives neighbors, my unknow, far away, occasionally passing each other, and next to each other neighbors.  They have all different tones, tones of what, tons of what,  and different hairs, if they have hairs, and different skin colors.  And different wants and needs and knees and feet, and features of one type or another.  Different ways they treat and different ways they approach their next door neighbors.  And those neighbors that came over on a boat or walked, road, hinged onto, were dragged, were dredged up, as they were or could have been or might eventually travel from one continent to the next, whether or not they were content, or weather their contempt and collecting all that was around them that surrounded them, those sirs and stirs and sires and buyers that they walked on.  And walked over,  And those who walked over them. 

               The stars in their eyes and the steers in the skies that kept giving rise to their mercury and forced colonies onto Mars and Marks and Marx and Sparks and Remarks and Venus.

               I am not you.  I have a different hue.  I sound and rebound and we all hound.  I am bound and glad you were found.  Found?  You Fountain!

               My cells share your cells.  Some of us are, were, or will be in cells.  Some of us boat.  Some of us vote.  Sum of us to both.  And we all have individual things that we are devoted to.

               I saw a thing.  You sawed that binge.  You have your thinks.  Many circle this ring.  Ralph will soon bring the King.

               Altogether, the dust and the air and the animals and the electrons and elections and rejections.  All of that, we light and we like and we ignite Life.

 

Is that a pterodactyl a Dinosaur or a Dino Soar.  He sure  gave me a Dino Sore.

Are we in a Nursery or is the News Eerie?

 

               When I was growing up, my neighbor was Mr. Behr.  He named his son, Timothy.  When we first went to grade school, as he walked with me into the playground to wait for our classes to start, as I introduced him, everyone around us yelled and ran away.  What they yelled was, “Tim Behr!”

               In our school, in the seventh and eighth grades, we had gym class.  At the end of the hour, we all had to take showers. On the first day of Seventh Grade, and then again on the first day of Eighth Grade, someone started yelling, and we all had to get out.  They yelled, “Tim Bare!”

               In a few years, after we finished school, when we started working regular jobs, my friend and I would go to a neighborhood saloon at the end of our shifts.  So many times, he would be sitting on his bar stool.  So many times, he would gulp down, lean backward, and fall off.  The bartender would just look at him, smile, and yell “Tim Beer.”

 

                              And here,  I thought that us Humans were the most advanced species on Earth.  In this solar system.  I thought we were Universal.  Then I learned to scuba dive.  After petting a couple dolphins and going in the opposite direction from a school of sharks, boy that school sure taught me.

               I was directed into a coral reef.  It, they, all are not just made up from one individual.  Or even just one kind.  There were shrimps and lobsters and arms and eyes coming out of the coral.  Clams, eels, and so many others. More others swimming around, eating, cleaning, and protecting themselves from me.  Many kinds sure are kind.

               Us Human neighborhoods, it is hard to find a working group of houses inhabited with more than one race or more than one continental origin.  Here, fish, corals, snakes build and mountain and maintain and they are not just in a corral like we did to those horses and Indians.

               These guys built with what’s in the water and what they dig out of the ground.  After ten or more visits, I realized that it isn’t just one reef, or even several reefs.   But I began looking on land.  I saw bee hives.  I saw ant nests.  I saw groups of turtles and gila monsters and snakes and more living together, working together, building and caring for each other in the deserts.  In the sun dried canyons.  In rattle snake burrows.  Everywhere and everything.  If they are alive, to stay alive they know they must work together.

               The wind.  The grass.  The streams.  The coasts.  Salty or not.  They take care of themselves without the hatred that we love to share.

                                             Oh! Oh!

                                             There’s a Duck Duck Here

                                             And a Duck Duck There

                                             Here a Feather

                                             There a Feather

                                             Everyone Bares Their Own Feathers

                                             That’s my conglomerate module shouting its alarm

                                             For My Swear Ego

                                            

                                                                  I hope you liked this                                                                                                                                      I hope you see if you like                                                                                                                              Any of THESE