if I were blue like David Hockney's pool dive into me and glide under a California sky inside your mouth and nose and eyes am I
if I were blue like Edward Hopper's afternoon lift the sash to air the breeze let my summer flush your cheek lie supine beneath the soft and gentle season
would that this were that this is more like black dark as darkest indigo sickly sweet and ripe like nothing smothering light
bring on the pelting rain palpable sensual pain like Goya in his studio in the thick of night absence is dull and silent
if I were blue a pale Picasso blue as beauty is to sorrow let me cover you in sleep and in your melancholy I would give you peace