At My Fingertips

When I close my eyes, I see burnt umber, fuchsia, and maroon

The colors taught to me by the waxy crayons of childhood—wrapped in paper, rounded points.

When I breathe, minty green flows in and out

Inhale, exhale

The cool drops of the atmosphere.

When I look, I am drawn to reds

Fire engine, brick, classic lipstick hues

The spark of a fire sign, ready to ignite.

But at my fingertips

Are a range of colors to make the rainbow envious

Lacquered bursts of gloss and sparkle

Shifting pigments on display

Accented by silver rings on every finger, the accessories of an eccentric

Or a creative

Open to inspiration, ideas, perspective

Trying to understanding the world with all its shades

And nuance

And making more worlds than my own, with more colors than my own

With each tap of a polished fingertip.